MARCEL 
LEVIGNET 


ELWYN  BARRO 


'< 


' 


8.  F.  McLEAN.  BOOK9BLLW, 
848  80.  BROADWAYf 


MARCEL   LEVIGNET 


MARCEL 
LEVIGNET 


BY 

Elwyn  Barren 

Author  of  "Manners,"  etc. 


New  York 

Duffield    &    Company 
1906 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  BY 
DUFFIELD  AND  COMPANY 


Published,  September,  igo6 


MARCEL  LEVIGNET 


2134271 


Marcel    Levignet 


ETERING  down  the  stairs  of  the  Grand 
Opera  House,  rather  glad  to  get  away  from 
an  indifferent  performance  of  "  Faust  " — 
for  it  was  the  summer  season — I  came  upon  my 
friend  of  the  boulevards,   Marcel  Levignet,  lei- 
surely puffing  a  cigarette  in  the  lower  promenade. 

Levignet,  though  a  man  of  light  humour  and 
sunny  temper,  was  the  personification  of  grief  when 
in  repose.  "  Good  Monsieur  Melancholy,"  I  named 
him,  borrowing  the  phrase  from  Orlando.  But 
his  was  a  sweet  pathos,  that  attracted  sympathy 
and  won  regard.  One  felt  the  impulse  to  lock  arms 
with  him,  bear  him  off  to  some  snug  corner,  and, 
over  a  consolatory  bottle,  bid  him  unburden  his 
heart  of  its  sorrows.  If,  however,  Levignet  had  any 
memories  gnawing  into  the  treasury  of  his  soul,  he 
never  betrayed  it  in  word  or  conscious  sign,  for  a 
more  cheerful  good  fellow  never  gave  wings  to 
heavy  hours.  To  touch  his  arm  or  speak  his  name 
was  to  turn  on  an  animating  current  to  illuminate 
with  pleasure  his  sallow  countenance,  made  darker 
by  the  abundant  white  hair  that  fell  over  his 


io  Marcel    Levignet 

shoulders  and  the  grey  moustache  that  could  not 
conceal  a  smile  the  most  persuasive. 

"  Will  you  go  back  for  the  third  act?  "  I  asked, 
lighting  a  cigar  from  his  cigarette. 

"  It's  a  deuced  bore,  you  comprehend,  to  listen  to 
opera  without  singers.  The  ballet  is  well  enough, 
if  only  you  didn't  have  to  suffer  those  voices.  I 
think  I  shall  not  go  back.  And  you  ?  " 

"  I  was  escaping  when  I  found  you." 

"Are  you  alone?  " 

"  The  same  thing.  My  friend  is  a  '  Faust '  en- 
thusiast. He  will  stay.  He  sings  to  himself,  you 
know." 

"  The  devil  I  Those  fellows.  One  sat  behind 
me.  He  kept  me  awake.  You  cannot  scowl  them 
into  decency.  They  are  democrats.  He  will  join 
you?" 

"  After  the  opera." 

"  Well,  you  have  two  hours  on  your  hands. 
What  will  you  do  with  them  ?  " 

"  Anything.  They  are  yours,  if  you  will  have 
them." 

"  You  are  very  kind  with  your  gratuities;  but  it 
is  too  early  to  make  use  of  them." 

"  We  might  stroll  down  the  boulevard." 

"  You  see  I  have  my  third  leg,"  holding  to  my 
view  an  uncommonly  stout  stick.  "  I  never  play 
the  dandy  with  that." 

"An  accident?" 


Marcel    Levignet  1 1 

"No;  a  memento  of  '71  that  occasionally  re- 
minds me  that  I  fought  for  the  Third  Empire." 

"  You  never  told  me  you  were  in  the  war." 

"  Every  Frenchman  with  heart  enough  to  hate  a 
Prussian  was  in  the  war.  But  I  never  think  of  it 
until  I  get  the  knee-ache.  Heaven!  it  hardly 
cracked  a  bone,  and  yet — without  doubt  those  Ger- 
mans poison  their  bullets!  Which  way  shall  we 
turn?" 

We  were  now  at  the  Boulevard  des  Capucines, 
and  the  cafe  tables  on  the  pavement  were  rather 
inviting  to  a  man  an-hungered  and  athirst,  for  I 
had  driven  in  after  lounging  the  day  away  at  Ver- 
sailles, and  had  missed  my  dinner.  I  proposed 
that  we  sit  down  for  a  bit  of  something  and  a  glass 
to  wash  it  down. 

"  Not  here,"  dissented  Levignet;  "  I  should  not 
have  a  moment's  peace  with  you.  It  is  a  pest,  let 
me  tell  you,  to  know  every  cafe  loiterer,  trousered 
and  frocked,  that  just  fails  of  respectability.  The 
Riche  is  but  a  pistol-shot  away.  We  can  slip  into 
a  snug  corner  and  be  alone.  It  is  the  swarm 
of  foreigners — the  English  and  you  Americans 
have  a  way  of  taking  possession  of  it.  But  you 
pay  for  it.  I  will — what  do  you  say? — stand 
treat." 

We  were  already  moving  in  that  direction,  but 
I  affected  to  demur,  being  willing  to  let  him  pay 
the  shot  provided  he  would  agree  to  tell  me,  as  we 


12  Marcel    Levignet 

ate,  a  half-promised  story  of  the  Third  Napoleon's 
coup  d'etat. 

"  That,  and  another  very  much  more  piquant. 
For  example,  did  you  ever  hear  the  story  of  the 
grand  fete  in  the  Tuileries  gardens,  when  nude 
young  women  were  perched  on  pedestals  as  statues  ? 
My  faith!  you  look  incredulous.  But  it  was  so. 
Humph!  It  was  not  all  unchecked  wantonness, 
just  the  same.  A  stout  old  soldier  of  the  guard 
stopped  before  one  of  these  unfortunates  of  imper- 
ial caprice,  levelled  his  carbine  and — piff — one  of 
the  pedestals  was  empty.  In  the  old  Roman  days,  a 
father  had  such  rights,  but  in  modern  France — 
especially  when  the  matter  in  a  measure  disturbed 
the  serenity  of  a  festival — it  was  not  to  be  counte- 
nanced. There  was  also  a  vacancy  in  the  guard. 
Ah,  well !  Monarchs  must  be  amused,  you  know. 
True?  On  the  honour  of  a  soldier.  No  doubt 
there  is  a  record  of  it.  Some  day  the  memoirs  of 
Louis  Napoleon  will  be  written  without  political 
reserve.  If  you  live  to  read  them — well,  you  shall 
marvel.  Ah!  if  they  only  dared  set  down  plain 
truth  about  the  first  Napoleon!  That  man  was 
in  more  ways  extraordinary  than  at  the  head  of  an 
army  or  on  the  throne  of  the  Bourbons.  But  you 
and  I,  how  shall  we  measure  or  sit  in  judgment 
upon  genius  ?  It  is  a  world  and  a  law  unto  itself. 
Nature  makes  her  own  averages.  Extremes  in  one 
direction  necessitate  extremes  in  the  opposite.  A 


Marcel    Levignet  13 

great  soldier  may  want  morals.  What  goes  to 
make  up  a  particular  genius  must  impoverish  other 
qualities.  Is  it  not  so?  " 

When  we  arrived  at  the  cafe  there  were  few  per- 
sons at  the  tables,  the  hour  being  early.  Levignet 
was  to  be  communicative,  I  saw,  and  I  congratu- 
lated myself  upon  that  timely  escape  from  the 
opera.  He  proceeded  to  the  business  of  ordering 
a  little  supper,  giving  his  directions  very  carefully 
about  the  wine,  which  he  wanted  chilled  to  an 
exact  degree,  and  after  the  excessively  dignified 
waiter  had  gone,  rolled  a  fresh  cigarette  and  settled 
himself  to  be  very  much  at  ease. 

Levignet's  air  and  appearance  were  an  agree- 
able compromise  between  the  military  and  the 
artistic.  He  had  the  comfortable  nonchalance  of 
terrene  proprietorship  that  the  vulgar  strive  for, 
but  which  settles  upon  the  man  of  the  world  only 
after  he  learns  in  all  schools  of  experience  that  un- 
perturbed amiability  and  perfect  willingness  to  let 
every  man  hold  by  his  own  opinions  are  the  high- 
est social  achievments.  I  thought  him  the  most 
enviable  creature  living  as  he  leaned  lazily  back, 
blew  a  cloud  of  smoke,  and  said: 

"  Now  we  may  be  happy !  " 

"  I  shall  be  happy,"  I  responded,  smilingly,  "  if 
you  will  tell  me  the  story  of  the  pile  of  thousand 
franc  notes." 

"That  Louis   Napoleon   stole    from   himself? 


14  Marcel    Levignet 

It  was  very  droll.  Rather  a  clever  way  to  kill  off 
his  troublesome  partners,  Cornemuse  and  St.  Ar- 
naud,  but  far  from  honourable.  As  the  story  goes 
the  Emperor,  one  morning,  received  from  these 
gentlemen  a  more  than  commonly  imperious  de- 
mand for  money,  and  resolved  to  put  an  end  to 
these  reprisals.  But  how  to  do  it?  Suddenly  a 
plan  suggested  itself,  a  bit  of  strategy,  a  trick  to  set 
them  to  fighting.  He  proceeded  to  act  upon  it  at 
once Mon  Dieu !  It  is  Toinette  I  " 


II 


A  STRIKINGLY  handsome  woman  entered 
the  room  as  he  spoke,  leaning  upon  the 
arm  of  a  man  of  distinguished  appearance 
despite  the  fact  that  he  was  slight  and  but  little 
above  the  medium  size.  She  was  slender,  but  of 
those  gracefully  symmetrical  proportions  that  ap- 
peal so  strongly  to  artistic  sensibilities,  and  bore 
herself  with  a  harmony  of  proud  dignity  and  lan- 
guorous ease,  possible  only  with  a  woman  long  ac- 
customed to  universal  admiration  and  conscious  of 
her  right  to  admiration,  yet  quite  indifferent  to 
those  over  whom  the  spell  of  her  enchantment  is 
cast.  She  was,  perhaps,  five-and-twenty,  but  in  her 
face — a  perfect  oval,  of  the  colour  of  ivory  just 
touched  with  the  crimson  glow  of  warm  young 
blood — there  was  the  indefinable  evidence  of  a 
mind  early  matured  and  fashioned  in  the  school  of 
experience.  Her  dark  eyes,  shadowed  by  uncom- 
monly long  and  curving  lashes,  were  luminous  of 
a  joyous  spirit,  tinged  in  a  perplexing  way  by  sad- 
ness. Her  hair  black,  with  a  faint  gloss,  its  natural 
tendency  to  curl  manifest  in  the  ripples  of  its  broad 
folds,  was  caught  negligently  over  a  broad,  high 
brow  indicative  of  intellectual  qualities  and  force 

15 


1 6  Marcel   Levignet 

of  character,  as  her  mouth  and  delicate  nose  were 
of  aesthetic  sensibility.  An  air  of  the  utmost  re- 
finement completed  the  fascination  of  a  beauty  en- 
hanced by  the  quiet  elegance  of  her  attire.  She 
and  her  escort  took  seats  at  a  table  in  one  of  the 
angles  of  the  room,  and,  as  she  sat  against  the  white 
and  gold  background  of  the  wall,  the  vision  of  love- 
liness was  quite  enough  to  justify  the  exclamation 
of  Levignet: 

"Divine! 

"  And  yet,"  he  added,  "  she  is  not  celestial, 
either." 

"You  know  her?" 

"  I  know  that  if  there  is  a  more  ravishingly 
beautiful  creature  in  Paris,  she  wears  the  cap  of 
invisibility." 

Levignet  let  a  cloud  of  smoke  curl  lazily  from 
his  mouth,  and  peered  through  its  drifting  haze  at 
the  lovely  'Toinette  with  the  evident  satisfaction 
of  a  connoisseur  scrutinising  a  rare  work  of  art. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  voluptuary  about  this 
habitue  of  the  boulevards  and  cafes,  though  his 
profession  of  faith  was  hedonistic.  He  remained 
so  long  silently  contemplative  that  I  felt  a  war- 
ranted impatience. 

"  Confound  it,  Levignet,  do  you  think  I  got  rid 
of  curiosity  with  my  verdancy?  You  excite  the 
liveliest  anticipations  and  then,  with  the  most  pro- 
voking sang-froid,  cut  one  adrift  and  lapse  into 


Marcel    Levignet  17 

dreams.  Come  to  the  rescue,  man.  Who  is  the 
lady?" 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Levignet,  with  a  slight 
laugh,  and  making  a  peculiarly  graceful  gesture 
with  his  left  hand  as  if  wafting  a  kiss  to  a  distance. 
"  When  the  wine  comes,  we  shall  drink  to  the 
health  and  long  life  of  beauty.  So  you  are  inter- 
ested, my  dear  Summerville?  You  were  a  dull 
dog  did  not  that  face  stimulate  your  fancy.  But 
that  is  a  story  will  keep.  My  faith!  it  has  been 
kept  well  enough  these  half  dozen  years.  I  know 
some  ten  or  twenty  gardens  of  the  quill,  any  one  of 
whom  would  give  an  ear  for  the  details.  Eh, 
well.  You  were  asking  about  the  affair  of  the 
bank-notes." 

"  I  prefer  to  hear  the  story  of  your  'Toinette,  if 
it  is  all  the  same  to  you,  Monsieur  Tantaliser." 

Levignet  raised  his  glass. 

"  It  was  very  curious.  Louis  Napoleon  was  not 
by  any  means  a  fool,  let  me  persuade  you.  No 
man  is,  for  that  matter,  who  knows  how  to  get  a 
throne — even  that  of  France,  which  always  invites 
the  audacious.  You  know  how  the  coup  was  ef- 
fected. The  chief  aiders  and  abettors  of  Louis, 
besides  the  Due  de  Mornay,  were  General  Corne- 
muse  and  General  St.  Arnaud,  without  whom  he 
scarcely  could  have  succeeded.  They,  indeed,  did 
the  work  for  him.  They  kept  him  well  reminded 
of  this  fact  after  he  became  Emperor,  and  made 


1 8  Marcel    Levignet 

such  demands  for  money  upon  him,  that  it  became 
a  vexatious  problem  with  him  how  to  get  rid  of 
them  and  their  exactions.  He  was  not  without 
fertility  of  a  mischievous  sort.  I  could  tell  you 
forty  stories  to  prove  that  point.  The  great  must 
be  expedient,  or  the  devil  take  them  1  " 
"  Which  he  is  like  to  do  in  any  event." 
"  Eh?  I  do  not  follow  you.  But  to  our  mut- 
tons. One  morning  the  Emperor  received  my  fine 
generals  in  a  mood  the  most  amiable.  They  had 
come  in  their  usual  fashion  of  cheerful  insolence, 
accounting  themselves  in  some  manner  the  masters 
of  the  Empire,  and  were  not  a  little  disconcerted 
by  the  unexpected  good-nature  of  their  unwilling 
purse-bearer.  Louis  chatted  and  jested  in  the  live- 
liest vein,  and  with  the  most  cordial  spirit  imagin- 
able took  from  his  pocket  and  placed  on  the  mantle- 
piece  a  joy-exciting  pile  of  thousand-franc  notes. 
He  then  diverted  his  guests  with  the  most  piquant 
anecdotes,  and  quite  made  them  forget  for  a  time 
the  fact  that  they  were  there  to  bully  him  out  of  a 
snug  part  of  his  imperial  profits.  Laughing  and 
joking  in  this  way,  Louis  finally  placed  himself  in 
front  of  the  fireplace,  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  and, 
in  a  happily  chosen  moment,  whipped  the  bank- 
notes into  his  pocket,  unobserved  by  either  of  the 
others. 

"  Then,  pretending  a  necessity  to  go  into  the 
adjoining  room,  he  excused  himself  for  a  moment 


Marcel    Levignet  19 

and  retired.  After  an  absence  of  perhaps  ten 
minutes,  he  returned,  seemingly  somewhat  vexed, 
and  said  in  a  brusque  way: 

"'Pardon  me,  gentlemen;  I  quite  forgot  that 
you  came  on  business.  Let  us  attend  to  it.  Here 
are  some  thousands  of  francs ' 

"  The  rascal  turned  to  the  mantelpiece,  stopped 
short  in  his  speech,  looked,  with  an  excellent 
counterfeit  of  surprise,  where  the  notes  were  not, 
and  then,  in  a  comical  way  said : 

"  '  But  I  see  you  did  not  wait  for  me  to  give  them 
to  you.  Well,  did  you  divide  them  fairly?  ' 

"  Was  ever  impudence  greater?  For  my  part,  I 
wonder  this  superb  charlatan's  effrontery  did  not 
save  him  from  Sedan. 

"  Cornemuse  and  St.  Arnaud  looked  at  each 
other  in   amazement,   the  one  suspicious  of  the 
other  instantly.     How  easily  knaves  fall  out,  my 
friend!     Finally,  Cornemuse  stammered  out: 
*  Sire,  I  hope  you  do  not  suspect  that  I ' 

"  '  Do  you  dare  insinuate '  interrupted  St. 

Arnaud,  hotly,  and  in  the  twinkle  of  an  eye  a  pretty 
quarrel  was  delighting  the  soul  of  the  imperial 
hypocrite,  who  affected  to  be  greatly  distressed  by 
the  question  of  honour  so  infelicitously  raised.  He 
took  care  that  his  words  should  increase  the  choler 
of  the  disputing  gentlemen,  however,  and  when 
they  proposed  to  settle  the  matter  at  the  sword's 
point,  there  and  then,  he  begged  that  they  would 


20  Marcel    Levignet 

withdraw  into  the  garden,  where  he  hoped  they 
might  adjust  their  differences  amicably. 

"  A  scurvy  trick  might  dupe  as  wise  a  person  as 
you,  friend  Summerville,  and  those  two  gamesters 
with  fortune  were  thoroughly  taken  in,  I  assure 
you.  They  bolted  from  the  room  to  descend  into 
the  garden,  but  Cornemuse,  the  more  precipitate  of 
the  two,  was  incautious  enough  to  start  first  down 
the  secluded  stairway.  The  wily  St.  Arnaud  per- 
ceived the  advantage  chance  or  his  own  discretion 
had  given  into  his  hands,  and,  not  to  be  inapprecia- 
tive  of  the  partial  attention,  out  with  his  sword  and 
thrust  the  blade  effectually  into  the  back  of  the 
foolish  Cornemuse." 

"  Cowardly  enough,"  I  remarked. 

"Say,  rather,  strategic,  my  dear  Summerville; 
an  instance  of  the  presence  of  mind  that  in  all  great 
crises  discriminates  the  man  of  success  from  the 
man  of  failure.  There  was  no  one  to  be  too  critical 
whether  the  sword  entered  from  the  front  or  the 
rear,  the  name  of  duel  covered  up  the  crime  of 
assassination,  and  Louis  Napoleon  was  rid  of  one 
of  his  troublesome  partners  at  no  expense  to  him- 
self." 

"  You  put  it  felicitously,  upon  my  word !  " 

"  I  am  giving  you  facts,  not  indulging  a  fancy 
for  heroics.  Besides,  it  is  all  one  to  me  how  a 
scoundrel  or  a  blackguard  makes  his  exit  from  the 
comedy  of  life — whether  by  the  spado  of  the  bravo 


Marcel    Levignet  2 1 

or  the  nostrum  of  the  quack.  The  important  thing 
is  that  he  makes  his  exit.  This  little  episode  of 
which  I  have  been  at  pains  to  tell  you  with  a  dry 
throat,  happened  opportunely  on  the  eve  of  the 
trouble  in  the  Crimea.  Cornemuse  being  out  of 
the  way,  the  simple  question  how  to  be  quit  of  St. 
Arnaud  was  answered  in  the  most  satisfactory 
manner. 

"  He  was  commissioned  to  the  war.  Louis 
sent  him  in  command  to  the  Crimea,  and  there, 
presently,  he  died,  of  the  cholera,  it  was  officially 
reported — of  poison,  it  was  privately  whispered. 
Thus  was  the  triumvirate  dissolved  to  the  peace  of 
the  nephew  of  his  uncle.  Eh,  bienf  Again  I  say, 
Louis  Napoleon  was  no  fool;  but  'tis  a  pity  the 
back  stairs  or  a  cup  of  poison  could  not  have  availed 
against  those  cursed  Prussians.  Ah,  gargon,  the 
wine  at  last!  Be  quick;  fill  me  a  glass!  I  am 
perishing.  Confound  you,  Summerville,  for  hav- 
ing me  babble  in  this  fashion  with  dessicated  lips  I 
I  see  where  your  eyes  are  feasting.  Come  on,  then; 
here  is  to  the  lovely  'Toinette  Beaudais — may  time 
be  damned  if  he  impoverish  her  beauty!  " 

Whether  deliberately  or  unconsciously,  I  could 
not  say,  but  Lev.ignet's  gay  tone  was  so  loud  that  it 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  couple  at  the  table  in 
the  corner,  and  I  saw  their  quick  exchange  of 
startled  glances,  the  face  of  the  man  clouding 
angrily. 


22  Marcel    Levignet 

"  They  heard  you,"  I  protested,  feeling  some- 
what uncomfortable. 

"  You  alarm  yourself,  my  dear  friend.  They 
are  too  much  occupied  the  one  with  the  other  to  be 
aware  of  us  or  our  words." 

Nevertheless,  as  he  drank  his  wine  in  generous 
draughts,  the  gentleman  arose  from  the  table, 
bowed  ceremoniously  to  the  lady  and  came  calmly 
toward  us.  Stopping  a  little  in  front  of  Levignet, 
he  said,  in  politely  modulated  tones  and  with  pre- 
cise courtesy: 

"  It  was  your  pleasure,  monsieur,  to  call  out  the 
name  of  madame." 

"  Monsieur  was  attentive,"  answered  Levignet, 
imperturbably.  "  It  was  my  pleasure  to  drink  the 
health  of  beauty." 

"  You  are  insolent,  monsieur,"  said  the  other. 
'  You     are     candid,     monsieur,"     responded 
Levignet. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  make  request  of  your 
card,"  placing  his  own  card,  as  he  spoke,  on  the 
corner  of  the  table. 

"  It  is  at  your  service,"  said  Levignet,  taking 
one  from  his  case.  "  A  moment,  if  you  please." 

He  wrote  with  a  pencil  under  his  name,  "  For- 
merly sub-prefect  of  police,"  and  handed  the  card 
to  the  stranger.  "  I  shall  take  coffee  at  the  first 
table  in  the  cafe  of  the  Grand  Hotel  precisely  at 
ten  o'clock  in  the  morning." 


Marcel    Levignet  23 

"  Thank  you,  monsieur."  The  gentleman 
bowed,  and  retired. 

The  lady,  who  was  evidently  much  disturbed, 
had  risen  from  the  table,  and  advanced  a  little  to 
meet  her  escort  as  he  returned.  The  gentleman 
urged  her  to  be  seated  again,  but  she  declined,  and 
he  turned  to  summon  the  waiter.  As  he  did  so, 
'Toinette  took  the  card  which  he  had  kept  in  his 
hand,  and  as  she  read  the  superscription,  gave  a  cry 
that,  under  other  circumstances,  I  might  have 
thought  one  of  mingled  pleasure  and  surprise.  She 
held  it  to  the  view  of  her  companion  and  I  dis- 
tinctly heard  her  say : 

"  Regardez,  mon  man!  C'est  Levignet,  mon 
bienfaiteur!  " 

"Comment?" 

Levignet  heard,  too,  and  smiled. 

There  was  a  whispered  conference  between  the 
two,  after  which  the  gentleman,  with  the  card  ex- 
tended in  his  hand,  approached  Levignet  and  said 
with  dignity: 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  return  your  card,  mon- 
sieur. It  will  not  be  necessary  to  disturb  you  at 
coffee  in  the  morning.  Madame  begs  to  assure 
you  of  her  grateful  remembrance." 

"  Since  you  permit  me,  monsieur,"  Levignet 
replied,  "  Madame  has  no  more  respectful  admirer 
than  your  servant.  The  offence  given  was  the  most 
inadvertent,  and  monsieur  and  madame  have  my 


24  Marcel    Levignet 

profoundest  regrets  and  apologies."  Levignet 
arose  as  he  spoke,  and  bowed  in  a  way  to  include 
madame  in  the  obeisance. 

"  It  is  I  who  apologise,"  said  the  other,  bowing 
in  his  turn.  A  minute  later  the  gentleman  had 
feed  the  waiter  and  had  left  the  cafe  with  "  'Toin- 
ette." 

Levignet's  regard  followed  them  until  they 
passed  out  the  door,  his  lips  wearing  a  peculiar, 
half  pensive  smile,  his  fingers  playing  with  one  end 
of  his  moustache.  Though  I  burned  with  curious 
impatience  for  an  explanation  of  a  scene  through 
which  I  had  sat  with  anything  but  composed  emo- 
tions, I  did  not  disturb  the  reverie  of  my  friend,  but 
sipped  my  wine  in  silence  as  the  waiter  served  the 
supper. 

After  a  time  he  roused  himself  and,  smiling  upon 
me,  said: 

"  You  make  no  comment,  Summerville." 

"  My  dear  Levignet,"  I  answered,  "  my  ears  are 
at  your  service." 

"  Very  well.  When  we  come  to  our  cigars,  I 
shall  puncture  them  with  a  strange  tale." 

"  I  see  you  are  resolved  to  give  me  an  indiges- 
tion." 

"  My  dear  young  friend,  philosophy  is  an  excel- 
lent aperient.  You  shall  be  taught  patience." 

There  was  not  too  much  to  eat,  but  the  meal  was 
interminable.  Finally,  I  exclaimed : 


Marcel   Levignet  25 

"  Confound  it,  Levignet !  I  shall  go  back  to  the 
opera.  It  is  less  a  trial  than  you  are,  for  there,  at 
least,  I  know  what  is  coming." 

"  And  therefore  you  are  not  in  the  least  piqued 
to  interest.  But  have  at  you!  Here  is  a  story 
known  to  but  four  people  on  earth,  Monsieur  le 
Baron  de  Noel,  the  polite  gentleman  whose  card  I 
have;  'Toinette,  the  beautiful  lady  who  has  the 
honour  to  be  the  Baron's  wife ;  an  interesting  female 
Mephisto  of  the  social  world;  and  your  most  oblig- 
ing friend,  who  is  about  to  admit  you  to  another  of 
the  professional  confidences  of  which  you  have 
proved  yourself  deserving  in  the  years  of  our  ac- 
quaintance." 

He  took  a  mouthful  of  fish. 

"  Ah  1  when  it  comes  to  sole,  one  must  really  give 
the  first  place  to  the  Cafe  Margery.  But  this  is 
very  good." 

I  ventured  no  opinion,  and,  after  a  time,  he  gave 
his  moustache  the  preparatory  twirl  for  which  I 
was  waiting. 

"  I  must  inform  you,  my  dear  Summerville,  that 
from  the  day  I  left  the  University,  about  half 
educated,  though  I  got  a  sheepskin,  I  have  been  a 
fellow  of  eccentric  impulses.  My  father  had  the 
thoughtful  care  to  make  a  fortune  in  chocolate,  and 
was  considerate  enough  to  die  and  leave  me  rich 
before  I  had  become  a  patron  of  the  barbers.  It 
had  been  his  desire  that  I  take  up  either  the  law  or 


26  Marcel    Levignet 

medicine,  but,  as  he  did  not  wait  to  see  me  placed, 
I  thought  it  rather  a  waste  of  energies  to  adopt  a 
troublesome  profession,  since  I  already  had  the 
substantial  rewards  of  industry,  and  recognised  no 
necessity  to  struggle  for  an  increase  of  that  of 
which  I  possessed  more  than  I  could  spend  decently 
in  an  average  lifetime.  But  I  was  of  an  experi- 
mental and  inquisitive  mind,  and  there  were  certain 
occupations  that  offered  me  diversion  without  im- 
posing upon  me  any  tedious  grind  by  way  of  prep- 
aration. I  used  to  haunt  the  studios  of  artists 
and,  fascinated  by  the  studies  of  life  which  chiefly 
engaged  the  young  painters,  I  became  a  dauber  in 
oils,  a  spoiler  of  canvas.  I  might  have  achieved  a 
famous  success  had  that  been  the  day  of  our  impres- 
sionists, for,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  nothing  was 
more  difficult  than  to  determine  whether  my  paint- 
ing was  intended  to  represent  a  tranquil  landscape 
or  a  storm  at  sea,  a  revel  of  fairies  or  the  feeding 
of  sheep.  I  persevered,  however,  with  the  satis- 
faction of  an  enthusiast  until  the  rascally  artists 
held  a  solemn  convocation,  very  ceremoniously  pre- 
sented me  with  an  engraved  pewter  medal,  and,  in 
a  series  of  speeches  that  might  have  been  inspired 
by  a  Raphael,  graduated  me  from  their  studios  and 
locked  the  doors  against  me,  so  that  the  world  at 
large  should  have  the  benefit  of  my  genius. — '  Come 
to  Hecuba '  ?  What  the  deuce  do  you  mean  by 
bidding  me  '  come  to  Hecuba  '  ?  Another  name 


Marcel   Levignet  27 

for  'Toinette?  Eh,  bienf  I  choose  my  own  road  to 
a  destination.  If  you  can  get  to  'Toinette  without 
me,  bon  voyage.  I  shall  smoke  my  cigar  in  peace." 
The  rogue  laughed  at  my  despairing  gesture, 
filled  my  glass  again,  and  said: 
«  "  You  nervous  Americans !  One  must  humour 
you  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  art.  It  is  deplorable. 
Well,  from  masterpieces  of  art  I  turned  to  the  crea- 
tion* of  masterpieces  in  various  fields  of  endeavour. 
I  have  been  everything  and  done  everything,  from 
writing  verse  to  dissecting  a  cadaver;  and,  finally, 
I  became  an  editor,  with  a  view  to  solidifying  the 
Third  Republic — or  undermining  it,  as  the  case 
might  be.  This  work  was  very  agreeable  to  me, 
as  it  brought  me  into  communication  with  all  sorts 
and  classes  of  people,  and  gave  me  an  acquaintance 
with  my  fellow  mortals  that  quite  disturbed  my 
theology.  I  grew  to  be  a  veritable  Mephisto  with 
benevolent  tendencies.  Not  by  any  means  a  con- 
tradiction, my  dear  boy.  Every  intelligent  man  of 
the  world  is  a  curious  composite  of  devil  and  saint. 
Experience  will  show  you  yourself  in  that  light. 
Well,  through  my  influence  as  an  editor  and  in  pur- 
suit of  a  caprice,  I  secured  an  appointment  to  the 
secret  service  police,  with  the  exceptional  privileges 
and  authorities  of  a  sub-prefect.  I  began  to 
cherish  the  notion  that  I  should  beat  Gaboriau  at 
his  own  game  and  actually  went  so  far  toward  it  as 
to  gather  material  for  a  novel  that  you  may  write, 


28  Marcel    Levignet 

if  you  will.  As  for  me,  I  have  discovered  that  fact 
is  so  much  more  strange  and  unreal  than  fiction  as 
to  make  fools  of  the  novelists.  Allans  done. 

"  This  was  my  situation  the  night,  or  rather  the 
morning  of  November  I2th,  1887.  I  had  been 
busied  at  the  office  of  the  paper  later  than  usual, 
and  did  not  close  my  desk  until  about  one  o'clock. 
It  was  a  beautiful  clear  night,  with  the  stars  thick 
as  spray,  but  the  air  was  rather  chilly.  I  had  no 
great  distance  to  go,  and  instead  of  calling  a  cab 
decided  to  walk,  to  throw  off  the  oppressiveness  of 
the  beastly  office  and  get  myself  into  a  wholesome 
frame  of  mind  and  body  for  a  sleep.  Buttoning 
my  overcoat  across  my  breast,  lighting  a  cigar,  and 
thrusting  my  hands  well  down  into  my  side  pockets, 
I  started  off  at  a  brisk  pace.  My  thoughts  were 
occupied  with  some  features  of  a  recent  case  which 
was  puzzling  the  police,  when  I  was  startled  from 
my  reflections  by  a  woman,  thinly  clad,  with  a  shawl 
drawn  about  her  head  and  shoulders,  who  came 
from  a  doorway  in  the  rue  de  1'Universite  and 
grasped  me  by  the  arm,  imploring  me  to  serve  her. 

"  '  What  do  you  want?  '  I  asked. 

" '  Oh,  sir,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  go  for  a 
doctor,  and  bid  him  come  at  once  1  I  will  wait  for 
you  at  the  open  door.' 

"  4  What  shall  I  say  is  the  matter? ' 

1  An  accident.    I  can't  give  you  the  particulars, 
but  delay  may  be  fatal.' 


Marcel   Levignet  29 

"A  few  doors  below,  on  a  cross  street,  lived 
one  of  the  most  eminent  physicians  of  Paris,  and, 
with  more  interest  tha/  I  could  account  for  to  my-  *>V  / 
self,  I  told  the  woman  to  get  within  doors,  and 
hastened  to  fetch  the  doctor.  I  ran  most  of  the 
distance  along  the  empty,  desolate,  dimly  lighted 
streets,  until  I  reached  the  residence  of  Dr.  Ribault. 
I  pulled  the  bell  with  unnecessary  violence,  and 
gave  it  a  second  and  third  pull  before  it  was  possi- 
ble anyone  should  respond  to  the  first  call.  Very 
promptly,  an  upper  window  was  raised,  and  a  voice 
demanded : 

"'Who  is  there?' 

"'Is  that  Dr.  Ribault?' 

"  '  Yes.     What  do  you  want  of  him  ? ' 

"  '  A  case  of  life  and  death  just  around  the  cor- 
ner. No  time  to  be  lost.' 

"  *  I  will  be  with  you  directly,'  said  he  grum- 
blingly,  and  the  window  was  roughly  closed. 

"  It  seemed  a  devil  of  a  time  before  the  doctor 
appeared,  but  I  relieved  my  impatience  with  all 
sorts  of  fanciful  conjectures,  my  experience  of  police 
cases  leading  me  to  believe  there  was  something 
mysterious,  or  at  least  sensational  in  the  affair. 
When,  therefore,  Dr.  Ribault  opened  his  door  and 
joined  me  somewhat  ungraciously,  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  to  go  with  him  to  the  house,  instead  of 
giving  him  the  number  and  continuing  on  my  way 
home. 


30  Marcel    Levignet 

"  I  made  myself  known  to  the  doctor,  and,  ex- 
pressing my  opinion  that  the  case  was  something 
out  of  the  common  run,  asked  permission  to  accom- 
pany him.  He  readily  enough  consented,  and 
within  ten  minutes  we  were  at  the  door  where  the 
woman  waited. 

"  She  half  blocked  the  entrance  as  we  came  up, 
and  said,  pantingly,  pointing  at  me: 

"  *  But  this  gentleman ' 

"  '  Is  all  right,'  interrupted  the  doctor.  '  Where 
is  the  patient? ' 

"  The  woman,  who,  needlessly  explained  that  her 
name  was  Madame  Arnot,  and  that  she  let  rooms 
to  lodgers,  was  in  a  state  of  morbid  excitement, 
talked  volubly  but  incoherently,  and,  in  an  aimless 
fashion,  as  if  not  conscious  of  what  she  was  do- 
ing, ushered  us  into  a  parlour  or  reception  room, 
and  begged  us  to  sit  down,  evidently  reluctant  to 
take  us  at  once  to  the  victim  of  the  accident. 

"  All  this  was  plainly  annoying  to  Dr.  Ribault, 
who  brusquely  demanded  to  know  what  all  she  was 
saying  had  to  do  with  a  case  that  required  his  at- 
tention so  urgently.  Mme.  Arnot  told  us  as  best 
she  could,  with  many  sobs  and  superfluous  words, 
what  had  caused  her  fright.  She  was  a  light 
sleeper,  she  said,  and  had  been  awakened  by  a 
noise  as  of  a  heavy  body  falling  on  the  floor  of  the 
room  just  above  her  own.  While  she  was  wonder- 
ing, half  sleepily,  what  had  disturbed  her,  an  upper 


Marcel    Levignet  31 

door  slammed  and  she  heard  light  footsteps  hurry- 
ing down  the  stairs.  She  sprang  from  her  bed 
and  rushed  into  the  hall  just  in  time  to  see  the  front 
door  open  and  the  figure  of  a  woman  pass  out  into 
the  darkness.  She  ran  forward,  looked  out  the 
door,  which  had  been  left  open,  and  dimly  descried 
a  swiftly  moving  figure  which  passed  under  the 
feeble  gaslight  and  disappeared.  Filled  with  a 
numbing  fear,  she  returned  into  the  house,  strug- 
gled upstairs,  entered  the  room  in  which  she  had 
heard  the  noise,  '  And  there,'  she  exclaimed  hysteri- 
cally, '  I  saw  such  a  sight  as  made  my  blood  freeze 
in  my  veins — a  man  lying  dead,  upon  the  floor. 
Oh,  dear  doctor,  I  couldn't  go  near  it,  and  ran 
down  the  stairs  and  crouched  in  the  open  door 
scared  almost  to  death,  till  this  gentleman  came 
by.' 

*  Show  me  the  way ! '  ordered  the  doctor, 
rising. 

Madame  Arnot  rose  tremblingly. 

"  'Who  is  this  man?'  asked  the  doctor,  as  we 
started  up  the  stairs. 

'  M.  Jules  Martin.  He  came  here  six  months 
ago  to  look  for  rooms.  He  ended  by  renting  the 
house,  and  I  turned  off  my  other  lodgers.  A 
week  later  he  brought  a  lady  here,  and  introduced 
her  as  his  wife.  She  was  very  pretty  and  very 
young,  much  too  young  for  him,  I  thought — but 
that  is  all  I  know  of  them.' 


32  Marcel   Levignet 

"  The  conversation  had  been  conducted  in 
strained  whispers,  and  we  were  now  halfway  up 
the  stairs.  When  we  reached  the  landing  Mme. 
Arnot  turned  to  the  left,  and,  stopping  before  the 
second  door,  which  she  did  not  offer  to  open,  said 
in  a  low  whisper: 

"  *  This  is  the  room.' 

"  We  went  in  quietly,  and  turned  on  the  gas  to 
full  blaze.  Lying  face  downward  on  the  floor,  in 
his  night  robe,  was  the  body  of  a  man.  The  doctor 
touched  him  and,  in  the  act  of  turning  him  over, 
said  composedly: 

"  *  Quite  dead.' 

"  But  when  the  light  fell  strong  on  the  pale, 
dark-bearded  face  of  the  dead  man,  the  doctor 
sprang  back,  startled,  even  terrified,  and  exclaimed 
excitedly : 

"  '  My  God!  It  is  Judge  Chartier!  My  old 
friend  Chartier!'" 


Ill 


I  KNEW  Judge  Chartier  by  reputation  as  one 
of  the  wealthiest  and  most  distinguished  mem- 
bers of  the  bar,  and  often  had  seen  him  in 
public.  I  knew  also  that  his  daughter  was  an  ac- 
complished young  lady,  a  social  favourite,  remark- 
able for  her  benevolence,  and  that  his  son  occupied 
a  responsible  position  under  the  government. 

"  While  these  thoughts  were  flashing  through 
my  mind,  Dr.  Ribault,  deeply  affected,  had  knelt 
beside  the  body  of  his  friend,  clutching  a  wrist  in 
the  vain  hope  to  feel  some  slight  fluttering  of  the 
pulse,  bending  his  ear  against  the  dead  man's 
breast,  intently  listening  for  the  muffled  sound  of  a 
yet  throbbing  heart.  As  he  lifted  his  head  and 
drew  back  his  hand  from  the  breast  of  his  dead 
friend,  I  heard  him  mutter  in  an  awed  whisper  the 
one  word  '  Murdered !  * 

"  Then,  rising  quickly,  he  turned  to  me  with 
pale  face  and  with  gleaming  eyes,  said  brusquely 
and  with  evident  anxiety  to  prevent  questions : 

"  *  It  is  a  case  of  heart  disease.  Help  me  lift 
him  onto  the  bed.' 

"  We  stooped  to  raise  the  body,  which  we  bore 
to  the  bed  with  some  difficulty,  for  Judge  Chartier 
had  been  a  man  of  exceptional  stature.  As  we 

33 


34  Marcel    Levignet 

straightened  out  the  yet  lax  limbs,  I  pointed  to  a 
single  spot  of  blood  on  the  soft  bosom  of  the  night 
robe,  and  said  quietly: 

"  '  Excuse  me,  doctor,  is  this  an  indication  of 
heart  disease? ' 

"  He  glanced  where  I  pointed,  and  exclaimed 
eagerly,  as  if  to  sweep  away  what  doubt  I  had : 

"  *  That  did  not  come  from  him.  He  has  not 
bled.' 

"  He  drew  a  sheet  up  over  the  body,  and  then 
addressed  me  imploringly: 

"  *  We  must  get  him  secretly  and  quickly  to  his 
home.  There  must  be  no  publicity — no  scandal. 
A  carriage  must  be  brought,  and  we  will  dress  him 
and  take  him  to  the  house.  We  can  support  him 
between  us,  so  the  cabman  will  suspect  nothing,  ex- 
cept that  he  is  ill.  Go,  I  entreat  you,  to  get  a 
carriage.' 

"  He  was  pushing  me  toward  the  door  as  he 
spoke  thus,  his  words  coming  fast,  with  scarcely  a 
pause  between  them. 

"  Resisting  him  respectfully,  but  firmly  I  said : 

"  *  I  will  do  as  you  say,  doctor,  but  first  I  must  be 
satisfied.  I  am  an  editor,  and  owe  some  duty  to 
my  paper.  But  I  am  also  a  sub-prefect,  and  owe 
something  to  my  profession.  I  cannot  accept  your 
explanation  that  this  is  a  case  of  heart  disease.  It 
is  either  murder  or  suicide.  I  must  see  what  that 
spot  of  blood  means.' 


Marcel    Levignet  35 

"  Dr.  Ribault  remonstrated  with  me,  angrily, 
pleadingly,  but  when  he  found  me  resolved  to  pene- 
trate the  mystery,  he  went  abruptly  to  the  bed, 
threw  back  the  sheet,  held  open  the  shirt,  and  said : 

"'  Look,  then!' 

"  I  was  at  his  side  instantly,  and,  looking  on  the 
exposed  breast  of  the  dead  man,  saw  the  glitter  of 
a  triangular  group  of  golden  spear  heads  to  a  tiny 
instrument  fixed  in  the  breast  directly  over  the  seat 
of  the  heart.  I  comprehended  at  once.  It  was 
the  head  of  one  of  those  formidable  pins  which 
women  make  use  of  to  keep  their  hats  in  place. 
Less  than  half  an  inch  of  the  pin  was  visible  be- 
neath the  fantastic  head,  the  main  length  being 
buried  in  the  heart  of  the  dead  man.  It  had  been 
driven  home  with  such  force  and  precision  that  not 
a  drop  of  blood  had  escaped  outwardly.  I  was 
more  startled  by  this  than  I  would  have  been  by  the 
sight  of  a  gaping  knife-wound. 

"  *  Murdered ! '  I  exclaimed.  *  But  how  do  you 
account  for  the  drop  of  blood  here? ' 

"  *  That  came  from  the  hand  of  the  person  who 
committed  the  murder.  His  hand  was  evidently 
cut  by  these  prongs,  so  great  was  the  resistance 
even  to  the  point  of  the  needle-like  pin.1 

"  I  was  rather  jealous  of  his  detective  acuteness, 
and  remarked  that  it  must  have  been  a  woman  of 
exceptional  strength  and  sang-froid  to  have  man- 
aged it  so  adroitly. 


36  Marcel   Levignet 

"  *  It  was  not  done  by  a  woman,'  he  said  insist- 
ently. '  It  is  a  man's  scarf-pin.' 

"  '  Nonsense,  doctor!  It  is  a  woman's  hat  pin. 
This  is  the  work  of  a  woman.  Besides,  it  was  a 
woman  who  fled  from  the  house.' 

"  '  True.  I  had  forgotten,'  he  assented,  reluc- 
tantly; then,  with  sudden  earnestness,  he  pleaded  in 
behalf  of  his  dead  friend's  family  that  I  would 
agree  with  him  to  keep  the  affair  secret  for  a  time. 

"  After  some  resistance,  sentiment  and  benevo- 
lence contending  against  my  professional  instincts 
and  theories  of  justice,  I  made  a  conditional  promise 
to  keep  this  night's  affair  a  profound  secret  for  the 
present,  to  let  it  be  thought  that  Judge  Chartier 
had  died  of  heart  disease  at  his  own  home,  after 
having  been  attacked  at  the  residence  of  his  inti- 
mate friend,  Doctor  Ribault.  Fortunately  for  the 
success  of  this  arrangement,  Dr.  Ribault  was  a 
widower,  living  alone  with  an  elderly  housekeeper 
and  a  man-servant  who  slept  over  the  stables. 

u  This  plan  decided  upon,  Dr.  Ribault  carefully 
drew  the  long  pin  from  the  breast  of  the  dead  man, 
the  consequent  flow  of  blood  being  very  slight,  skill- 
fully dressed  the  wound,  which  was  merely  a  punc- 
ture not  more  than  the  eighteenth  part  of  an  inch 
in  diameter,  and  so  ingeniously  closed  it  in  with  a 
bit  of  wax  that  other  eyes  than  ours  could  not  detect 
the  place. 

"  Within  a  few  minutes  we  had  clothed  the  body 


Marcel    Levignet  37 

in  the  street  suit  of  the  Judge,  and  I  went  to  get  a 
carriage.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  I  found  Mme. 
Arnot,  crouching  expectantly. 

"  '  Well?  '  she  asked  eagerly,  yet  in  a  frightened 
tone  of  voice. 

"  *  It  is  all  right,'  I  answered.  *  M.  Martin  had 
an  attack  of  heart  disease,  but  he  is  not  yet  dead, 
and  may  be  saved.  It  would  be  well  for  you,  how- 
ever, to  say  nothing  about  this  affair,  or  you  may 
find  yourself  in  an  unpleasant  predicament  with  the 
police.' 

i  "'*  Thank  God! '  exclaimed  the  woman,  wholly 
restored  to  confidence ;  *  I  thought  there  had  been 
a  murder.  You  may  be  sure  I  know  how  to  keep 
my  own  counsel.' 

"  Just  as  I  was  going  out  the  door,  the  doctor 
called  me  from  the  head  of  the  stairs.  I  returned 
to  him. 

"  *  You  had  better  get  my  private  carriage,'  he 
whispered.  '  My  man,  Jacques,  is  a  trusty  fellow. 
Rouse  him  and  order  him  to  harness  the  horses  and 
come  at  once.' 

"  This  simplified  matters,  and  I  followed  in- 
structions. 

"  In  less  than  an  hour  the  body  of  Judge  Char- 
tier  lay  on  a  sofa  in  the  library  of  his  Avenue 
d'Antin  residence,  with  the  stricken  family  gath- 
ered in  loving  sorrow  about  it. 

"  The  afternoon  papers  of  the  next  day  and  the 


38  Marcel   Levignet 

morning  papers  of  the  day  following  contained 
long  and  eulogistic  obituary  notices  lamenting  the 
sudden,  but  peaceful  death  of  the  highly  esteemed, 
exemplary  Judge  Chartier,  who  was  duly  com- 
mitted to  the  care  of  the  family  vault  with  all  the 
sanctity  befitting  the  end  of  a  noble  career." 

Levignet  smiled,  made  a  deprecatory  movement 
of  his  shoulder  and,  refilling  my  glass,  exclaimed: 
"  F'la!  "  as  if  he  had  come  to  the  end  of  his  story. 

"  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  Toinette?  "  I  de- 
manded with  some  irritation. 

"  'Toinette !  I  uncovered  to  you  one  of  the 
most  piquant  of  the  mysteries  of  Paris,  and  your 
vagrant  mind  is  all  the  time  in  chase  of  a  pretty 
woman's  phantom!  Humph!  I  thought  you 
were  an  amateur  of  social  lunacies.  Shall  I  help 
you  to  an  artichoke?  You  will  find  the  sauce  ex- 
quisite. If  you  take  the  trouble  to  learn  for  what 
dish  each  restaurant  is  excellent,  you  may  dine  to 
perfection  in  Paris.  But  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose 
that  all  the  virtues  of  the  cuisine  have  been  appro- 
priated to  the  establishments  most  remarkable  for 
their  charges.  There  is,  presumably,  an  affinity 
between  price  and  quality,  but " 

"  Confound  it,  Levignet!  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Summerville,  you  are  tempestive ! 
Ah,  well ;  placidity  is  temperamental,  or  impossible, 
Dr.  Ribault  assures  me.  I  yield  to  your  infirmity. 
The  doctor  and  I,  as  you  may  suppose,  became 


Marcel   Levignet  39 

very  good  comrades.  We  often  dined  or  break- 
fasted together  at  appointed  places,  and  naturally 
the  adventure  which  had  made  us  acquainted  was 
never  quite  ignored  in  our  conversation.  The  two 
main  'questions — who  was  the  woman?  and,  what 
was  the  motive  of  her  apparently  vindictive  crime  ? 
— continued  to  baffle  our  guardedly  conducted  in- 
vestigations. We  had  many  theories,  and  prob- 
ably we  hit  upon  exact  facts  with  some  of  them, 
but  we  could  arrive  at  nothing  tangible.  From 
Mme.  Arnot  we  got  a  vague  and  rather  too  gen- 
eral description  of  '  Mme.  Martin,'  and  concluded 
that  she  was  a  well-bred,  refined  young  lady — 
Mme.  Arnot  was  sure  she  was  not  more  than  nine- 
teen years  old — who  might  have  come  from  any  of 
a  hundred  families  within  the  barriers  of  this  city 
of  beautiful  women.  Our  one  clue,  the  jewelled 
and  tricuspid  hat-pin,  was  rather  more  vexatious 
than  helpful,  as  I  developed  a  mania  for  taking  it 
to  jewellers  to  have  its  counterpart  made,  without 
succeeding  in  finding  anyone  who  could  point  to  its 
maker. 

"  Six  months,  twelve  months,  eighteen  months, 
and  no  developments.  I  had  come  to  regard 
myself  as  particeps  criminis  by  this  time,  and  rather 
enjoyed  the  situation — though  the  doctor  was  very 
far  from  seeing  it  in  a  humorous  light.  He  con- 
tinually excused  himself  by  declaring  that  he  had 
discharged  a  sacred  duty  to  friendship  in  conceal- 


40  Marcel    Levignet 

ing  the  fact  that  his  boyhood  and  manhood  '  pal,' 
as  you  say,  had  finished  in  a  shameful  death;  but  he 
was  troubled  by  compunctions  of  conscience,  and 
had  I  belonged  to  the  vulgarly  acquisitive  class  of 
materialists,  I  might  have  preyed  upon  his  fears  to 
half  the  extent  of  his  fortune.  Finally,  we  dis- 
missed the  subject  from  our  conversations,  deciding 
to  leave  the  discovery  of  the  assassin  to  chance. 
And  here  let  me  say  that  '  Chance '  is  far  the  best 
detective  the  government  has  in  its  service. 
Vidocqs  are  marvellous  fellows  in  fiction,  where  the 
game  is  all  in  the  hands  of  the  novelist;  but  in  prac- 
tical criminality,  in  ninety-nine  detective  cases  out 
of  a  hundred,  circumstances  would  make  fools  of 
the  cleverest  detectives,  did  not  '  Chance  '  or  a 
*  peacher '  intervene.  Those  of  us  who  have  been 
much  behind  the  scenes  know  how  small  a  part 
mere  astuteness  or  deductive  intelligence  plays  in 
clearing  up  a  '  mystery '  without  the  aid  of 
1  Chance '  or  the  *  Informer.'  A  clever  man,  of 
course,  knows  how  to  eliminate  the  adventitious 
elements  when  he  has  elaborated  his  problem,  and 
may  give  the  appearance  of  sagacity  to  what  was 
nothing  more  than  obedience  to  specific  direction. 
However,  if  the  tricks  of  trade  in  all  its  ramifica- 
tions were  known,  some  very  distinguished  figures 
in  history  would  topple  from  their  pedestals. 

"  At  the  end  of  two  years    I  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  affair  of  the  rue  de  1'Universite 


Marcel    Levignet  41 

had  taken  its  place  among  the  impenetrable  mys- 
teries that  are  far  more  numerous  in  criminal  annals 
than  the  confiding  public  remotely  suspects. 

"  Having  been  absurd  enough  to  accept  a  seat 
in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  I  became  more  or  less 
occupied  with  the  foolish  or  knavish  projects  of 
political  factions,  and  gradually  lost  touch  with  the 
fascinating  army  of  criminals  with  which  profes- 
sional duties  had  made  me  familiar.  I  confess  that 
I  was  rather  annoyed  by  the  futile  obligations  of 
my  role  as  deputy,  which  were  impairing  my  zest 
for  what  is  really  the  most  captivating  of  intel- 
lectual pursuits — the  investigation  of  social  dere- 
lictism,  if  I  may  employ  the  word.  It  was  not 
without  a  sense  of  pleasure  then  that  I  saw  shuffle 
into  my  editorial  room  one  day  perhaps  the  most 
thoroughly  disreputable  of  the  incorrigible  thieves 
whose  pictures  enrich  the  galleries  of  our  prefec- 
ture. He  paused  expectantly  inside  the  door,  a 
smile,  half  impudent,  half  deferential,  distorting 
his  thin,  vulpine  face. 

"  '  Bon  jou',  M'sieu'  Levignet.' 

"  'Ah!  How  do  you  do,  Benoist? '  I  inquired 
cheerily,  swinging  my  chair  around  to  face  him. 
'What  brings  you  here?  Have  you  a  friend 
whom  you  wish  to  honour  with  an  introduction  to 
justice  ?  * 

"  No,  m'sieu*,  he  answered  with  an  apprecia- 
tive grin,  at  the  same  time  unfolding  a  slip  of  paper 


42  Marcel    Levignet 

clumsily  torn  from  a  newspaper.     '  I  come  in  the 
way  of  business.     It  is  about  this.' 

"  He  handed  me  the  slip,  which  proved  to  be  an 
advertisement  from  my  own  paper  offering  a  re- 
ward for  the  return  of  a  valuable  ring  taken  from 
a  residence  in  a  fashionable  part  of  the  city,  there 
being  the  usual  guaranty  of  no  questions  asked. 

"  *  Oh!    One  of  your  enterprises,  eh,  Benoist?  ' 

"  *  No,  truly,  m'sieu'.  The  credit  belongs  to  a 
friend  of  mine,  but  he  is  modest.  The  advertise- 
ment says  to  leave  the  ring  at  the  Clarion  office, 
and  name  reward.  I  know  you  for  the  right  sort, 
m'sieu'.  I  can  trust  you.  Here  is  the  "  shiner," 
saying  which,  he  produced  the  ring,  a  very  hand- 
some one,  which  answered  to  the  description. 

"  *  And  how  much  value  do  you  set  on  your  hon- 
esty, Benoist  ? ' 

"  '  Two  hundred  francs,  m'sieu'.' 

"  A  whim,  or  a  revival  of  instinct,  induced  me  to 
undertake  the  enterprise.  I  inquired  in  the  busi- 
ness office,  learned  that  a  reward  up  to  four  hundred 
francs  had  been  arranged  for,  gave  Benoist  the  two 
hundred  claimed,  took  the  address  of  the  advertiser 
and  determined  to  deliver  the  ring  myself.  For 
the  life  of  me  I  could  have  given  no  reason  for  an 
undertaking  that  promised  nothing  more  interest- 
ing than  the  return  of  a  bauble  to  a  woman  who 
might  prove  to  be  as  ugly  as  the  furies  and  as  fat 
as  the  pantomime  dowager.  Caprice  is  the  hand- 


Marcel   Levignet  43 

maiden  of  Destiny,  my  dear  Summerville.  Blindly 
followed,  she  is  wiser  than  a  council  of  judges.  I 
have  made  her  my  mistress  for  forty  years  and  my 
friends  think  me  the  luckiest  man  in  Paris. 

"  After  dinner  that  evening,  the  ring  snugly 
stowed  in  my  silk  porte-monnaie,  I  drove  to  the 
residence  indicated,  and  was  duly  ushered  into  a 
spacious  library,  the  footman  being  informed  that 
I  did  not  come  as  one  of  the  guests  who  already 
thronged  the  salon.  Presently,  the  master  of  the 
house,  the  General  de  Francault,  whom  I  knew  very 
well  by  sight,  came  into  the  room.  Though  his 
carriage  was  of  that  painfully  erect  character  en- 
forced by  military  tradition,  his  countenance  was 
benignant  and  his  manner  affable.  He  greeted  me 
graciously,  and  waited  politely  for  me  to  state  the 
object  of  my  call.  I  told  him  promptly  that  I  came 
to  restore  the  ring  stolen  from  his  house.  He  ele- 
vated his  eyebrows,  curiously  surveyed  me  as  if  I 
might  have  been  the  thief  in  proper  person,  smiled 
in  a  reassured  way  and  glanced  dubiously  at  the 
ring. 

"  *  I  am  not  sure  that  I  recognise  it,'  he  said. 
*  The  ring  was  stolen  with  some  other  trinkets  that 
belonged  to  my  niece.  I  must  call  her  to  identify 
the  property.' 

"  He  rang  a  bell  and  bade  the  servant  who  en- 
tered to  *  request  M'lle  Antoinette  to  come  here.' 

"  Before  I  had  ended  explaining  how  the  ring 


44  Marcel   Levignet 

came  into  my  possession,  a  beautiful  young  lady, 
not  above  twenty,  I  judged,  entered  the  room  smil- 
ingly, with  a  '  Yes,  uncle  ?  ' 

"  I  shall  not  offer  to  describe  her,  as  I  find  I  am 
suspected  of  a  tendency  to  over-elaborate  the 
charms  of  women  who  please  me ;  and  I  admit  that 
my  equanimity  is  somewhat  easily  disturbed  by 
them.  I  may  be  permitted  to  say,  however,  that  in 
a  face  of  extraordinary  sweetness  there  was  a  dash 
of  determined  worldliness  that  enchanted  me.  To 
my  palate  the  most  deliciously  delicate  meat  in  the 
world  is  that  of  a  fresh  young  langouste,  as  they 
serve  it  at  the  Cafe  d'Ammononville,  but  I  never 
eat  it  without  a  sprinkling  of  red  pepper.  Taste, 
Summerville,  is  the  epitome  of  the  cardinal  vir- 
tues, and  differences  in  taste  are  signs  of  moral  no 
less  than  of  aesthetic  separation ;  so  I  will  not  argue 
that  it  requires  a  touch  of  the  devil  to  clarify  a  saint, 
for  we  might  not  agree.  You  have,  as  yet,  a 
somewhat  contracted  view  of  the  significance  of 
life.  But  you  would  have  raved  over  the  young 
lady. 

"  '  'Toinette,'  said  the  General,  '  this  gentleman, 
M.  Levignet,  has  brought  a  ring  which  he  thinks 
is  the  one  stolen  from  you.' 

'  Oh,  let  me  see ! '  she  exclaimed,  with  an 
eagerness  that  was  unmistakable,  though,  strangely 
enough,  it  gave  no  hint  of  pleasure,  and  the  smile 
quite  disappeared  from  her  lips,  but  was  forced 


Marcel   Levignet  45 

back  again  with  a  shadow  of  bitterness  in  it.  And 
there  was  something  in  her  eyes,  too,  that  belied 
the  gaiety  of  her  speech. 

"  *  It  is  mine ! '  she  declared  at  the  first  glance, 
even  before  I  had  given  it  into  her  hands.  '*  I  had 
quite  despaired  of  seeing  it  again.  However  did 
you  come  by  it,  M.  Levignet  ?  ' 

"  I  repeated  to  her  what  I  had  already  said  to 
the  General,  though  you  cannot  blame  me  if  I 
added  a  few  phrases  rather  more  appropriate  in  a 
narrative  to  a  vivaciously  agreeable  young  lady 
than  in  a  matter-of-fact  statement  to  a  grizzled  old 
dog  of  war. 

"  The  General  was  for  immediate  reimburse- 
ment of  the  two  hundred  francs,  evidently  mistak- 
ing my  offer  to  call  at  a  more  opportune  time  for  a 
deliberate  attempt  to  extend  the  acquaintance.  He 
excused  himself  to  fetch  the  money.  In  his  absence 
Mademoiselle  Antoinette  talked  so  frankly  and  wit- 
tily, and  yet  with  such  an  undercurrent  of  conflict- 
ing emotion  that  my  speculative  fancies  were 
roused  to  the  keenest  pitch  of  enjoyment.  She  was 
a  new  type.  As  a  connoisseur  in  character,  I  per- 
ceived in  her.  elements  of  such  positive  and  yet  con- 
flicting qualities,  that  I  found  myself  speculating 
upon  the  different  results  circumstances  could  pro- 
duce out  of  such  material.  She  was  capable  of 
being  the  Ruth  of  the  Hebrews,  or  the  Medea  of 
Colchis;  Judith  or  Helen;  Jezebel  or  Niobe;  martyr 


46  Marcel   Levignet 

or  avenger.  But  as  an  output  of  our  sterilising, 
unifying  system  of  social  civilisation,  she  was 
merely  an  exceptionally  charming  young  lady,  with 
remarkable  underlying  possibilities.  I  wondered 
what  she  might  have  been  had  her  environment 
been  sordid,  poverty-cursed  and  criminal.  You 
will  not  abuse  my  meaning  when  I  say  that  I  felt 
a  delight  in  her  presence  such  as  I  had  never  ex- 
perienced in  the  company  of  any  other  woman.  If 
you  can  imagine  a  woman  of  modesty  so  simple 
that  it  enforces  your  reserve,  and  yet  of  a  piquancy 
that  challenges  your  levity,  you  may  understand 
something  of  the  influence  'Toinette  exercised  over 
me  in  our  first  brief  interview. 

"  It  happened  that  my  attention  was  attracted 
by  a  portrait  in  which  I  detected  resemblance  to 
Mademoiselle.  As  the  light  was  too  imperfect  to 
permit  of  a  clear  view  of  the  features,  'Toinette 
graciously  reached  to  turn  on  the  gas,  and,  in  doing 
so,  caught  the  lace  of  her  sleeve  in  the  gold  work  of 
an  ornamental  bracket.  I  stepped  forward,  with 
some  playful  remark,  to  disengage  her  arm ;  and,  as 
I  took  hold  of  the  lace,  she  turned  her  hand  coquet- 
tishly,  as  if  supplicating  release,  the  glare  of  the 
light  falling  full  on  her  palm.  I  was  in  the  Cham- 
ber when  an  anarchist's  bomb  exploded  in  our 
midst,  but  I  was  not  nearly  so  much  startled  by 
that  incident  as  I  was  by  the  sight  in  her  hand  of 
a  uniform  three-pointed  mark,  showing  through 


Marcel    Levignet  47 

the  cuticle  of  the  palm  like  a  faint  red  tattoo. 
Psychic  forces  are  as  subtle  and  incomprehensible 
as  electricity.  They  rush  upon  your  intelligence 
with  sudden  clarification,  and  you  know  in  an  in- 
stant facts  to  which  you  could  never  attain  by  rea- 
soning processes. 

"  I  grasped  her  hand,  rudely,  perhaps,  profes- 
sional zeal  getting  the  better  of  me,  and,  holding 
the  palm  sharply  to  the  light,  exclaimed  exultingly, 
4 At  last!' 

"  *  What  do  you  mean ! '  she  demanded  in- 
dignantly, at  the  same  time  snatching  her  hand 
from  my  grasp  with  a  violence  that  tore  the  lace 
of  her  sleeve  and  dislodged  a  vase,  that  fell  from 
the  bracket  and  crashed  against  the  tessellated 
flooring. 

"  I  bowed,  smiling  cynically. 

"  'Ah,  mademoiselle,  conceive  my  satisfaction 
in  seeing  a  cryptograph  for  which  I  have  searched 
despairingly  for  the  better  part  of  two  years !  " 

"'What  do  you  mean?'  she  repeated  angrily, 
her  eyes  flashing  into  mine  a  defiance  the  bravado 
of  which  I  easily  discerned  and  admired.  A  grey 
tinge  came  into  her  face  that  made  its  beauty  hag- 
gard, but  her  head  was  proudly  borne,  and  I 
flattered  myself  that  a  battle  royal  was  impending. 
There  is  an  indefinable  pleasure  and  sense  of 
triumph  in  the  mental  play  that  is  to  entrap  a 
shrewd,  clever,  well-fortified  suspect  into  an  in- 


48  Marcel   Levignet 

|  evitable  confession  of  guilt.     No  other  form  of 

|  excitement  is  equal  to  it.     I  regarded  her  for  some 

moments    with    a    calmly    mocking    and    assured 

smile  that  a  little  disconcerted  her  resolution  and 

betrayed  her  into  an  indiscreet  question. 

"  *  For  whom  do  you  take  me  ?  ' 

"  With  as  even  a  tone  as  if  she  had  asked  me 
the  time  of  day,  I  answered,  complacently  twisting 
my  moustache  and  looking  her  fixedly  but  not  at  all 
threateningly  in  the  eyes : 

"  '  For  the  assassin  of  Judge  Chartier,  mademoi- 
selle.' 

"  I  was  never  so  disappointed  with  the  effect  of 
a  shot  in  my  life.  Her  manner  changed  instantly. 
Though  she  was  undoubtedly  prepared  for  my  ac- 
cusation, the  directness  of  it,  the  quiet,  convinced 
simplicity  of  my  speech,  did  not  square  with  the 
order  of  attack  for  which  she  had  arranged  a  de- 
fence. She  looked  at  me  dumbly  for  a  moment, 
the  defiant  look  fading  from  her  eyes,  then,  sud- 
denly covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  she  sank 
down  at  my  feet,  moaning : 

"  *  So  I  am.     Do  with  me  what  you  will.' 

"  I  was  taken  aback.  She  was  not  playing  the 
role  I  had  assigned  her,  and  I  was  irritated  by  the 
transition.  Candidly,  I  rather  admire  a  resolute, 
unflinching  criminal  bent  on  baffling  his  accusers.  It 
arouses  your  ingenuity,  it  calls  into  exercise  all  your 
resources  of  craft  and  subtlety,  and  if  you  come  off 


Marcel    Levignet  49 

the  victor,  it  is  a  smart  addition  to  the  feathers  in  j 
your  cap.  But  the  sudden  abandonment  of  the  de- 
fensive position  and  an  unconditional  surrender  at 
the  first  fire  offends  one's  self-love.  It  places  an 
expert  strategist  at  a  provoking  disadvantage;  es- 
pecially when  that  strategist  is,  like  me,  cursed  with 
a  constitutional  inability  to  coordinate  beauty  with 
criminal  responsibility.  One  of  the  most  perni- 
cious tenets  to  which  politics  ever  committed  out- 
raged society  is  the  ineptitude  that  kings  can  do  no 
wrong.  But  I  am  helplessly  committed  to  the 
equally  fantastic  theory  that  beauty  is  its  own  ab- 
solution from  the  gravamen  of  criminal  mischance. 
I  use  the  word  '  mischance  '  advisedly,  for,  accord- 
ing to  my  reasoning,  beauty  errs  only  through  ac- 
cident, betrayal  or  temporary  insanity  produced  by 
shock,  and  is,  therefore,  never  really  culpable. 
Generally  speaking,  beauty  is  the  expression  of  that 
sane  moral  balance  to  which  society  owes  its  per-  , 
petuity.  You  may  think  this  mere  sophism,  or 
worse;  to  my  mind  it  is  the  fundamental  principle 
of  human  progress,  and  we  shall  be  masquerading 
savages  until  the  era  of  its  universal  adoption. 

"  It  need  not  surprise  you,  then,  that,  dismissing 
my  professional  chagrin,  I  stooped  in  compassionate 
tenderness  and  lifted  the  unhappy  creature  to  her 
feet. 

"  *  Mademoiselle,'  I  said  consolingly,  *  I  was  per- 
fectly willing,  I  may  say  eager,  to  play  my  wits 


50  Marcel    Levignet 

against  your  own  had  you  persisted  in  an  effort  to 
deceive  me.  But  the  manner  in  which  you  have 
admitted  your  guilt  so  entirely  persuades  me  of 
your  innocence  that  I  am  ready  to  undertake  your 
defence  against  yourself.1 

"  These  words  bewildered  her,  she  being  so 
wholly  ignorant  of  my  rational  methods. 

"  '  In  God's  name,  do  not  mock  me.  If  you  in- 
tend to  hand  me  over  to  justice,  I  will  go  with  you. 
Come;  let  us  go  now,  before  my  uncle  returns. 
Let  there  be  no  scene.' 

"  'There  shall  be  no  scene,  mademoiselle.  I 
shall  not  take  you  with  me.  Chance,  it  is  true, 
has  put  you  in  my  power;  but  your  secret  is  safe 
between  us,  unless  you  fail  to  convince  me  that  my 
theory  of  the  affair  of  the  rue  de  1'Universite  is 
the  correct  one.  We  are  liable  to  interruption  at 
any  moment  by  the  return  of  your  uncle,  so  that  I 
have  no  opportunity  now  to  question  you.  To- 
morrow afternoon,  at  two  o'clock,  I  shall  expect 
you  in  my  cabinet  at  the  Clarion  office.  Will  you 
come  ? ' 

"  '  Oh,  yes,  monsieur;  I  will  come.' 

"  '  I  know  the  particulars  of  the  tragedy.  It  was 
I  who  connived  with  Dr.  Ribault  to  give  the  death 
of  Judge  Chartier  the  character  of  a  natural  one. 
My  analysis  of  the  circumstances  led  me  to  a  feel- 
ing of  sympathy  with  the  unknown  woman 


Marcel    Levignet  5 1 

"  *  Oh,  monsieur  I ' 

u  *  I  only  wish  to  assure  you  that  my  judgment 
does  not  utterly  condemn  you,  but  recognises  the 
possibility  of  extenuating  facts.  You  will  do  well 
to  be  straightforward  with  me.  You  probably 
have  no  wish  to  evade  me — but  if  the  idea  should 
come  to  you,  dismiss  it.  The  niece  of  General  de 
Francault  would  find  evasion  difficult.' 

'  I  understand,  monsieur.     I  will  come  to  you 
at  two  o'clock  to-morrow,  or ' 

"  She  was  interrupted  by  the  voice  of  the  Gen- 
eral speaking  outside  the  door,  and,  without  com- 
pleting the  sentence  or  taking  leave  of  me,  she  ran 
across  the  room  and  disappeared  through  the  cur- 
tains of  a  doorway  opposite  to  the  one  through 
which  the  General  entered. 

"  After  some  trivial  talk  with  the  General,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  paid  me  the  two  hundred  francs 
and  thanked  me  for  my  trouble,  coupling  the  re- 
mark with  some  reference  of  a  flattering  sort  to  one 
of  my  speeches  in  the  Chamber,  I  said  my  adieu 
and  retired." 


IV 


I  WENT  directly  to  the  house  of  Dr.  Ribault, 
and  luckily  found  the  old  fellow  in. 
"  *  What  would  you  say,'  I  asked  abruptly, 
'  if  I  were  to  tell  you  that  I  am  able  to  lay  hands  on 
the  owner  of  the  hat-pin  ? ' 

"  He  sank  back  into  a  chair,  his  face  as  devoid  of 
colour  as  his  shirt-front. 

"  *  Good  Heaven !  Levignet,  why  do  you  alarm 
me  in  that  fashion?  '. 

"  '  I  have  found  her.' 

"  *  Found  whom?' 

"  '  I  have  told  you — the  owner  of  the  hat-pin.' 

"  '  You  are  jesting,  Levignet.' 

"  '*  Then  why  are  you  trembling  ? ' 

"  '  You — you  haven't  seen  her?  ' 

"  '  Not  half  an  hour  ago.' 

"  '  And  she  is  under  arrest? ' 

11  'Not  yet.' 

"  He  rose  from  his  chair  and  came  to  clutch  me 
by  the  arm  as  he  said,  half  pleadingly,  half  insist- 
ently : 

"  *  There  must  be  no  arrest.  There  must  be  no 
raking  up  of  the  ashes  of  my  dead  friend  to  scatter 
them  to  the  winds  of  infamy.' 

52 


Marcel   Levignet  53 

"  *  And  the  law  ? — justice  ? ' 

"  *  Law !  Justice !  Terms — expedients.  They 
are  for  the  purpose  of  guarding  the  honour  of  so- 
ciety, not  for  its  degradation.  We  put  them  both 
aside  when  more  is  to  be  lost  than  gained  by  ap- 
pealing to  them.  If  you  bring  an  unknown  assassin 
before  a  tribunal  where  he  can  be  condemned  only 
by  disgracing  a  noble  family  and  by  defaming  the 
respected  dead,  what  is  the  benefit  to  society?  Law 
becomes  a  mockery  and  justice  an  outrage,  within 
such  circumstances ! ' 

"  *  And  yet,  by  concealing  the  facts  and  shield- 
ing the  criminal,  you  and  I,  my  dear  Doctor  Ri- 
bault,  become  accessories  to  the  crime,  and  are 
equally  guilty  with  its  perpetrator!  I  am  not  a 
saint,  but ' 

"  *  Don't  talk  rubbish,  Levignet.  Don't  try  to 
frighten  me  with  childish  bugaboos  1  That  is  one 
of  the  traps  the  lawyers  set  to  catch  fools.  I  tell 
you  I  will  not  have  disgrace  brought  on  that 
family ! ' 

"  '  But  surely  you  would  not  have  the  assassin  of 
your  friend ' 

"  *  Judge  Chartier  is  beyond  the  influence  of  the 
living,  good  or  evil;  but  his  wife,  whom  I  esteem, 
Mademoiselle  Chartier,  whom  I  love,  and  Gaston 
Chartier,  a  noble  young  man  just  taking  his  place 
in  the  world,  shall  not  be  crushed  by  a  blow  that 
would  bring  no  good  to  anyone.  A  thousand  times 


54  Marcel    Levignet 

greater  harm  will  be  done  by  sending  to  the 
guillotine  a  woman  who  may  have  been  terribly 
wronged,  than  would  result  from  the  immunity  of 
the  assassin.' 

"  *  Your  views  are  nearly  in  accord  with  my  own, 
my  dear  doctor,  for  I  have  seen  and  formed  a  fav- 
ourable opinion  of  the  young  woman.  But  we  must 
proceed  rationally.  Many  things  are  to  be  con- 
sidered. Your  sentimental  interest  in  the  family 
of  your  old  friend  is  honourable  to  you;  just  as  I 
think  my  sympathy  with  the  distress  of  a  fascinat- 
ing girl  is  creditable  to  me.  Each  of  us  has  a 
self-satisfying  reason  for  letting  the  girl  go  free, 
but  the  reasoning  would  not  seem  so  cogent  from  a 
different  view-point;  that  is  to  say,  you  would  not 
regard  my  susceptibility  to  beauty  as  a  justification 
of  my  neglect  of  official  duty;  and  as  an  officer  of 
the  law,  I  can  hardly  admit  that  your  private  devo- 
tion to  the  Chartiers  should  blind  you  to  the  im- 
portance of  bringing  a  criminal  to  justice.' 

"  *  What !  do  you  tell  me  seriously  that  you  mean 
to  arrest  the  girl  ?  ' 

"  '  I  certainly  mean  to  probe  the  matter;  but  as 
for  arrest — well,  that  will  depend  upon  the  extent 
to  which  you  can  persuade  me  that  her  con- 
duct  ' 

"  *  Mark  me!  if  you  make  this  affair  public,  I 
will  kill  you ! ' 

"  The  interruption  was  like  a  bolt  from  a  cata- 


Marcel    Levignet  55 

pult.  My  mood  had  been  rather  bantering  than 
earnest,  and  here  of  a  sudden  was  the  doctor  glar- 
ing at  me,  his  face  distorted,  fists  clenched,  arms 
rigidly  at  his  side,  lips  quivering,  nostrils  dilating — 
all  the  symptoms,  in  short,  of  a  fine  frenzy !  If  I 
had  loved  him  less,  I  should  have  laughed,  but  he 
is  an  admirable  fellow,  and  I  was  above  insulting 
him.  After  my  momentary  astonishment,  I  said, 
with  as  much  complacency  as  my  inclination  to 
laugh  permitted: 

"  *  My  dear  doctor,  I  have  often  been  cautioned 
in  that  way,  but  I  am  so  entirely  a  child  of  caprice 
that  I  cannot  profit  by  warnings.  I  am  never  so 
irresistibly  led  by  it  as  when  a  personal  danger  lies 
in  the  way.  Therefore,  it  would  be  folly  for  me 
to  promise  to  keep  silence.  Whether  I  do  or  not 
will  depend  entirely  upon  my  state  of  mind  at  2  130 
o'clock  to-morrow  afternoon,  when  I  have  inter- 
viewed the  young  lady.  I  have  disturbed  you. 
Pardon  me.  Good  night.' 

"  I  had  taken  up  my  hat  and  stick  as  I  spoke, 
and,  with  a  careless  nod  of  the  head  toward  him, 
turned  to  go.  But  he  hurried  to  me,  grasped  my 
arm,  and,  his  anger  turned  to  supplication,  said : 

"  *  Levignet !  my  dear  Levignet,  wait  I  wait !  I 
was  wrong.  I  was  not  myself.  Think  of  it! 
We  have  been  the  closest  possible  friends  these  two 
years.  You  like  me;  you  have  said  it.  Well, 
pity  me.  Let  this  woman  go ! ' 


56  Marcel    Levignet 

"  '  What !  you  know  her,  then? ' 

"  '  Oh,  no — no — no.  I  know  nothing  of  her — • 
I  care  nothing  for  her — I  have  not  even  asked  you 
for  her  name.  If  you  demand  a  reason,  I'll  give 
you  one  you  cannot  resist,  if  there  is  a  heart  in  your 
breast* 

"  My  dear  Ribault,  you  are  trembling.  You  are 
in  tears.  Be  composed.  Sit  down.  Now,  then; 
what  is  it?  You'll  find  that  I  know  how  to  be  a 
friend.' 

"  '  Then  prove  your  friendship  and  keep  Elise 
— Mademoiselle  Chartier  free  from  the  shame  and 
humiliation  of  such  a  scandal ! ' 

"  The  truth  flashed  on  me  in  an  instant.  I  felt 
provoked  with  myself,  as  I  took  a  swift  retrospect 
of  our  intimate  conversations,  that  I  had  not 
divined  it  earlier  in  our  acquaintance.  I  looked 
compassionately  at  him  as  he  sat  bowed  down,  his 
hands  covering  his  face.  I  laid  my  hand  gently 
on  his  shoulder. 

"  '  Then  Mademoiselle  Chartier  is " 

"  *  My  daughter.' 

"  I  passed  my  hand  lightly  over  his  head,  strok- 
ing his  hair,  then,  without  a  word,  left  him  alone. 

"  How  the  stars  crowded  one  another  in  the 
blue-black  sky  that  night!  As  I  looked  at  them, 
I  had  a  fancy  to  see  their  sheen  in  the  water.  Any- 
one less  obedient  to  caprice  than  I  would  have 
laughed  the  notion  into  the  limbo  of  mooning  non- 


Marcel    Levignet  57 

sense  and  marched  off  energetically  to  his  club.  I 
strolled  down  to  the  quays.  My  dear  Summer- 
ville,  dismiss  from  your  mind  forever  the  doubt 
that  ,Chance  is  a  divinity.  It  is,  as  I  have  told  you, 
the  greatest  arbiter  and  guide  of  human  conduct. 
The  man  who  is  entirely  obedient  to  it  is  the  man 
who  successfully  fulfills  his  destiny.  The  only 
failures  in  life  result  from  the  opposition  of  self- 
will  to  the  decrees  of  Chance.  Don't  be  mistaken 
in  this.  It  is  a  truth. 

"  The  quays  were  deserted.  After  wandering 
idly  along  the  river  for  some  distance,  I  leaned 
over  a  parapet  to  enjoy  the  spectacle.  There  is 
the  starved  soul  of  a  neglected  poet  imprisoned 
somewhere  beneath  my  diaphragm  that  sometimes 
troubles  me  with  its  struggles  to  get  free.  At  such 
times  my  physical  energy  gives  way  to  languor, 
and  I  remain  indefinitely  a  prey  to  inaction.  I 
don't  know  how  long  I  dozed  over  the  parapet,  but 
I  was  roused  from  my  reverie  by  the  regular  plash 
of  oars  in  the  water,  and  I  saw  a  boat  being  rowed 
to  the  shore  line  just  below  me.  It  was  an  effective 
bit  of  life  in  the  still  darkness  of  the  river,  lighted 
only  by  the  star-spray,  and  I  thought  how  pleasant 
it  would  be  to  drift  down  with  the  current  to  the 
quay  near  to  my  own  house.  Caprice  again,  my 
friend,  but  I  acted  on  it.  Making  myself  known  to 
the  boatman,  I  very  readily  concluded  a  bargain 
with  him  for  the  use  of  his  boat,  for  which  he  was 


58  Marcel    Levignet 

to  call  the  next  morning.  I  rowed  into  the  middle 
of  the  stream,  and  there  shipping  my  oars,  I  let  the 
boat  drift,  boyishly  jubilant  in  the  sensation  of  my 
silly  romance.  Everything  was  enchanting ;  the 
frolic  of  the  ripples  with  the  massive  piers  of  the 
bridges;  the  swaying  of  barges  at  their  moorings; 
the  distant  rattle  of  a  cab  over  the  cobbles;  the 
blinking  and  disappearing  lights  in  the  houses;  the 
fixed  but  every  way  diverging  line  of  the  street 
lamps ;  the  slim  finger  of  the  spire  elegantly  soften- 
ing the  grim  bulk  of  Notre  Dame;  the  swoop  and 
swift  circling  of  the  bats;  the  boom  of  the  passing 
hour  from  the  belfries;  even  the  black,  unbroken 
wall  of  the  morgue,  against  which  the  waters  beat 
with  a  heavy  swash,  lent  a  complementary  touch  to 
the  serene  peace  of  the  midnight. 

"  My  boat  had  stolen  towards  the  right  bank 
and  I  was  gliding  among  the  shadows  from  the 
trees  that  overhang  the  quay  below  the  Pont  Neuf, 
when  I  heard  a  splash  ahead  of  me,  as  if  someone 
had  plunged  from  a  floating  boat-pier.  I  was 
alert  in  an  instant,  and  grasped  my  oars.  I  rowed 
in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  and  saw  the  great 
circles  that  the  star-shine  begemmed  widening  tow- 
ard the  further  shore.  I  saw  an  object  rise  a  boat- 
length  ahead  of  me,  one  hand  reaching  up  to  clutch 
at  the  yielding  air,  and  almost  instantly  disappear 
again.  A  sweep  of  the  oars  brought  me  to  the 
spot. 


Marcel    Levignet  59 

"  You  have  seen  me  in  the  water.  I  know  some- 
thing about  it.  I  might  have  a  breast-load  of  life- 
saving  medals  if  I  had  not  had  a  prejudice  against 
wearing  them.  A  dive,  a  little  groping  about,  and 
the  thing  is  done.  It  is  child's  play,  once  you 
have  caught  the  knack  of  it.  I  make  no  more 
virtue  of  such  a  performance  than  I  do  of  peeling 
an  orange  properly.  Some  skill  is  required,  how- 
ever, to  get  into  a  boat  while  you  cling  to  the  half- 
drowned,  fully-dressed  body  of  a  grown  woman; 
but  it  is  nothing  compared  with  climbing  a  breast- 
work in  the  face  of  a  rifle-volley,  and  he  who  has 
done  one  may  easily  manage  the  other. 

"  As  I  got  again  into  the  boat  with  my  burden, 
a  man  called  from  the  bank: 

"  *  What's  the  matter  out  there? ' 

"  I  was  about  to  explain  when  an  opening  in 
the  trees  let  the  street  light  fall  rather  freely  on  the 
upturned  face  of " 

"Toinette!"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Exactly,"  assented  Levignet,  without  seeming 
to  recognise  my  astuteness.  "  I  answered  the  fel- 
low on  the  bank  cheerily,  assuring  him  that  I  had 
been  asleep  and  tumbled  from  the  boat,  but  that 
the  plunge  had  driven  the  wine  from  my  head.  He 
had  the  ill-nature  to  be  dissatisfied  with  the  answer, 
and  I  saw  that  the  only  way  to  prevent  a  hubbub 
to  fetch  the  police  down  on  me  was  to  conciliate 
the  blackguard.  I  rowed  to  the  boat  landing  and 


60  Marcel    Levignet 

invited  the  fellow  into  the  boat.  I  let  him  hear  the 
rattle  of  some  gold  pieces,  as  I  said  to  him : 

"  '  My  good  fellow,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  have 
quarrelled  with  my  mistress.  In  a  fit  of  jealousy, 
which  you  can  understand,  she  threw  herself  over- 
"board.  You  shall  help  me  to  revive  her,  and  when 
we  have  got  her  into  a  carriage,  which  you  will  call 
for  me,  you  will  be  richer  by  two  large  pieces  of 
gold.' 

"  The  rascal  was  not  quite  a  fool. 

"  '  It's  all  one  to  me,  m'sieu','  he  said.  *  Save 
her  or  drown  her;  I'm  your  man  for  the  forty 
francs — and  a  pourboire  of  another  twenty.' 

"  '  Agreed,'  said  I,  '  provided  you  row  well  and 
avoid  any  chance  craft.' 

"  He  took  the  oars,  and  I  devoted  myself  to  the 
resuscitation  of  'Toinette,  who  was  already  showing 
signs  of  returning  consciousness.  She  came  around 
quickly,  for  her  bath  had  not  been  a  very  trying 
one;  and  on  her  first  words  of  intelligence  I  bent 
over  her  and  whispered: 

"  '  Say  nothing.     Keep  quiet.     It  is  Levignet.' 

"  The  name  terrified  her.  She  made  a  sudden 
effort  to  rise,  but  as  I  pressed  down  firmly  on  her 
shoulders  with  a  friendly  admonition,  she  moaned, 
sank  down  again  into  the  bottom  of  the  boat  and 
remained  dumb  and  inert  during  the  remainder  of 
the  journey." 


WHEN  we  pulled  up  to  the  quay  landing 
I  sent  my  new  accomplice  for  a  closed 
cab,  and  in  his  absence  I  addressed  my- 
self to  the  difficult  task  of  persuading  Mademoiselle 
'Toinette  that  the  trustiest  friend  she  had  in  Paris 
was  by  her  side.  I  so  far  succeeded  as  to  induce 
her  to  walk  up  and  down  the  quay  with  me  in  order 
to  start  her  blood  into  activity,  for  she  was  chilled 
to  the  heart.  I  forced  her  into  rather  a  violent 
effort  to  keep  pace  with  me,  for  I  felt  the  need  of 
the  exercise  myself;  and  by  the  time  my  man  re- 
turned to  say  the  cab  waited  at  the  foot  of  the 
street,  I  fancy  we  were  both  in  as  comfortable  a 
glow  as  the  condition  of  our  garments  and  the  tem- 
perature of  the  air  permitted.  She  accompanied 
me  to  the  cab  without  objection.  I  assisted  her  in, 
paid  my  confederate,  ordered  the  cabman  to  drive 
straight  ahead  lively,  and  got  in  beside  my  wet 
charge,  huddled  in  the  corner.  When  I  was  well 
out  of  range  of  my  accomplice,  I  gave  the  cabman 
my  address,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  had  consigned 
my  charge  to  the  care  of  my  housekeeper,  with  in- 
structions to  keep  an  eye  on  her.  There  was  no 
special  need  of  that  injunction,  however.  Old 

61 


62  Marcel    Levignet 

Suzel  is,  as  you  have  no  doubt  observed  in  your 
visits  to  me,  a  domestic  phenomenon.  Feminine 
intuition  has  reached  its  highest  state  of  develop- 
ment in  Suzel — as  virgin  as  Jeanne  d'Arc  and  as 
old  as  Methusaleh.  If  I  had  ushered  Mademoi- 
selle into  the  house  without  a  word,  Suzel  would 
have  said  to  herself  at  the  first  glance :  '  Ah !  Mon- 
sieur has  dragged  from  the  river  a  would-be  sui- 
cide. She  is  richly  dressed  and  has  jewelled  rings, 
therefore  it  was  not  a  release  from  hardship  and 
famine  she  sought.  She  is  young  and  of  incom- 
parable beauty,  therefore  it  is  not  an  ordinary  love 
affair — for  it  is  impossible  a  man  in  the  passion  of 
youth  could  desert  such  a  creature.  Her  eyes  and 
forehead  are  the  enemies  of  vice,  therefore  there 
has  been  no  vulgar  liaison.  But  there  is  a  desper- 
ate fear,  the  agony  of  humble  pride  in  her  expres- 
sion. M.  Levignet  has  not  notified  the  police, 
therefore  he  knows  her,  and  wishes  to  protect  her. 
Eh,  bien.  Suzel  knows  what  to  do.' 

"  So  the  wise  old  soul  did  not  trouble  me  with  a 
question.  I  had  no  thought  of  seeing  Mademoi- 
selle again  before  morning,  and  after  getting  into  a 
comfortable  flannel  neglige,  I  flung  down  onto  a 
sofa  with  a  brandy  bottle  by  my  side,  and  fell  to 
reading  Flaubert's  masterpiece,  '  Madame  Bovary/ 
for  the  hundredth  time.  The  book  is  morbid,  I 
grant  you ;  but  it  has  a  marvellous  tonic  power  for 
all  that.  It  is  one  of  the  great  things  of  our 


Marcel    Levignet  63 

modern  literary  output,  but  it  loses  its  bloom  in 
your  English  translations. 

"  I  had  been  reading  in  a  ruminating  sort  of 
way,  for  an  hour  or  more,  when  a  startling  convic- 
tion, sprung  in  the  most  unaccountable  way  from 
my  subconsciousness,  caused  me  to  toss  the  book 
aside,  jump  to  my  feet  and  run  upstairs  to  rap  at 
the  door  of  the  room  in  which  Suzel  was  attending 
to  Mademoiselle. 

"  Suzel  came  to  the  door. 

"  '  Can  Mademoiselle  see  me? '  I  asked. 

"  *  Yes.     She  will  not  go  to  bed.' 

"  I  entered  the  room. 

"  'Toinette,  presenting  a  droll  figure,  in  a  bundle 
of  Suzel's  clothes,  sat  moodily  by  a  blazing  fire, 
none  the  worse,  apparently,  for  her  attempt  to  find 
the  bottom  of  the  Seine.  Her  left  elbow  was  on 
the  arm  of  the  chair,  her  head  leaning  heavily  on 
her  hand,  and  I  looked  eagerly  to  see  if  the  ring  I 
had  restored  to  her  was  on  her  finger.  It  was. 
*  So,'  said  I  to  myself,  '  we'll  see.' 

"  I  inquired  if  she  was  comfortable,  and  sat 
down  to  engage  her  in  conversation.  She  made  no 
reply  to  my  overtures,  not  so  much  as  changing  her 
position,  until  I  adopted  the  tactics  of  soundly  be- 
rating Suzel  for  having  neglected  to  show  a  proper 
regard  to  the  needs  of  Mademoiselle.  The  wily 
Suzel  affected  to  defend  herself  with  stupid  excuses, 
and  seemed  on  the  point  of  coming  to  tears  under 


64  Marcel    Levignet 

my  reproaches.     It  had  the  desired  effect.     'Toin- 
ette  raised  her  hand  and  said  listlessly: 

"  *  Please  don't  scold  her.  She  has  been  very 
kind.  She  has  wearied  me  with  attention.  If  you 
will  permit  it,  I  should  like  to  be  left  alone.' 

"  She  did  not  look  toward  me,  and  as  her  hands 
lay  half  folded  in  her  lap  she  began  turning  the  ring 
on  her  finger,  in  a  restless,  almost  anxious  way. 

"  'You  shall  be  left  alone,  mademoiselle.' 

"  I  arose  as  if  to  go,  and  dismissed  Suzel.  I 
went  toward  the  door  and  said  good-night,  without 
taking  my  eyes  from  'Toinette.  I  saw  her  ner- 
vously slip  the  ring  from  her  finger. 

"  'Pardon  me,  mademoiselle,'  I  said,  turning 
back.  '  But  I  meant  to  ask  you  a  question  last 
evening,  which  I  hope  you  will  not  think  imperti- 
nent at  this  time,  as  I  may  forget  to  ask  you  in  the 
morning.' 

"  She  made  no  answer,  and  I  came  close  to  her, 
speaking  carelessly :  '  I  was  struck  with  the  odd 
setting  of  the  ring.  It  is  Oriental,  is  it  not?  ' 

"  '  I  do  not  know,  monsieur.' 

"  *  Has  it  been  long  in  your  possession?  ' 

" '  No.' 

"  '  Was  it  made  for  you?  ' 
'  No ;  it — it  was  given  to  me.' 

"  '  May  I  look  at  it  again?  ' 

"  She  hesitated  a  moment,  then  silently  handed  it 
to  me,  watching  me  intently  as  I  cursorily  examined 


Marcel   Levignet  65 

it.  Presently  as  I  fingered  lightly  at  the  main 
setting,  she  held  up  her  hand,  saying  abruptly : 

"  '  Give  it  to  me.' 

"  I  looked  into  her  eyes  without  offering  to  re- 
turn the  ring. 

"  'I  see,  mademoiselle,  that  you  are  eager  to 
ascertain  if  the  water  has  injured  the  powder 
which  this  setting  conceals.' 

"  She  sank  back  in  the  chair  and  stared  up  at  me 
with  anything  but  a  pitiful  expression.  There  was 
rather  an  alarming  composure  in  the  steady  gleam 
of  her  eyes.  I  felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure  with  the 
thought  that  she  was  quite  capable  of  killing  me  in 
that  instant  were  the  means  at  her  disposal.  It 
was  the  look  that  went  with  the  pin-thrust  that  cost 
Chartier  his  life.  I  understood  it  perfectly.  This 
girl  was  so  sensitive  to  the  shadow  of  disgrace  that 
she  was  ready  to  take  any  step  that  would  enable 
her  to  escape  its  visitation. 

"  *  What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  me  ? '  she 
asked. 

"  '  That  will  depend  entirely  upon  yourself,  as  I 
told  you  last  evening,  mademoiselle.  Perhaps, 
like  me,  you  are  something  of  a  fatalist.  Let  us 
consider.  Chance  led  me  to  save  you  from  drown- 
ing ;  it  has  led  me  to  prevent  your  use  of  the  powder 
in  this  ring.  Who  knows  but  Chance  took  me, 
rather  than  another,  to  the  house  in  the  rue  de 
TUniversite  a  certain  night,  in  order  that  sym- 


66  Marcel    Levignet 

pathetic,  appreciative  intelligence  might  save  you 
from  the  consequence  of — an  indiscretion?  You 
imagine  now  that  you  see  in  me  an  implacable  agent 
of  the  law,  an  official  Nemesis  in  masculine  guise; 
but  you  forget  that  it  is  the  province  of  Justice  to 
defend,  to  protect,  to  shield,  no  less  than  to  destroy 
and  avenge.  You  assume  that  there  is  no  escape 
for  you  except  by  taking  your  own  life.  I  wish  to 
assure  you  that  I  will  befriend  you  to  just  the  extent 
that  you  can  convince  me  that  you  merit  my  com- 
passion. You  see  what  an  advantage  I  offer  you. 
I  am  predisposed — perhaps  weakly  so — in  your 
favour.  Be  persuaded  to  improve  the  opportunity. 
Tell  me  your  story — frankly,  fully,  honestly,  for 
I  warn  you  that  I  shall  detect  the  slightest  devia- 
tion from  truth,  and  when  I  am  wounded  in  vanity 
— well,  mademoiselle,  I  put  aside  the  man  and 
invoke  the  criminal  expert.' 

"  This  was  rhodomontade,  my  dear  Summer- 
ville,  but  nothing  is  so  effective  with  women  of 
the  ultra-romantic  temperament;  and  it  is  ultra- 
romantic,  you  know,  to  wear  a  ring  with  a  cache 
for  poison.  It  transformed  Mademoiselle  'Toin- 
ette.  I  was  once  adrift  in  a  dory  for  three  days 
without  food  or  drink,  and  when  by  the  morning 
light  of  the  fourth  day  I  saw  a  barque  bearing  to- 
ward me,  I  swooned  with  the  joy  of  it.  So  I  was 
not  surprised  that  'Toinette  rose  from  her  chair 
with  a  cry,  and  fell  fainting  at  my  feet." 


VI 


I  LEAVE  you  to  infer  with  what  zeal  I  set 
about  ministering  to  the  needs  of  my  interest- 
ing guest.     I  am  not  inexpert  in  the  art  of 
putting  women  right,  and  Mademoiselle  'Toinette 
was  sensible  of  my  efficiency.     She  smiled  her  ac- 
knowledgments and  proved  her  sincerity  by  enter- 
ing at  once  upon  the  recital  of  her  story. 

"  It  was,  as  you  would  expect,  a  veritable  com- 
monplace of  the  social  epic.  I  anticipated  every 
detail  of  it.  There  are  only  two  stories  in  the  sum 
of  human  romance,  and,  given  the  starting-point, 
the  adept  may  easily  provide  the  incidental  se- 
quences, without  other  aid  than  the  rule  of  simple 
addition.  That  her  narrative  squared  in  all  essen- 
tial particulars  with  the  theory  I  had  elaborated  to 
Dr.  Ribault  more  than  once  was  merely  an  evidence 
that  my  intelligence  was  normal.  I  have  no 
patience  with  that  phase  of  popular  credulity  which 
ascribes  genius  to  any  fellow  who  may  pretend  to  a 
delphic  property  because  he  is  able  to  discern  a 
difference  between  two  plus  two  and  four  minus 
two.  Intuition  is  nothing  but  the  perception  of  a 
visible  truth.  Deduction  is  only  a  recognition  of 
the  invariable  law  of  cause  and  effect.  Norn  de 

67 


68  Marcel    Levignet 

Dieu!  Any  fool  can  develop  a  theory;  but,  when 
all  is  said  and  done,  the  greatest  detective  is  Chance, 
as  I  had  the  honour  to  remark  earlier  in  the 
evening. 

"  Briefly,  then,  Mademoiselle  Antoinette  Beau- 
dais  came  of  good  family.  Self-evident  fact.  One 
of  the  oldest  and  best  of  French  families.  Pre- 
sumptive fact.  City-bred,  but  not  Parisienne. 
Self-evident  fact.  The  cherished,  one  may  say 
spoiled,  daughter  of  an  early-widowed  mother. 
Presumptive  fact.  You  don't  like  the  analytical 
process?  Very  well.  To  your  prejudice.  Her 
native  place  was  Marseilles,  where  she  grew  into 
young  womanhood,  inspired  to  a  sense  of  the  value 
of  life  by  occasional  short  visits  to  Paris,  as  the 
guest  of  her  uncle,  her  mother's  only  brother..  Re- 
turning from  one  of  these  visits,  accompanied  by 
her  elderly  maid,  it  was  her  fortune  to  ride  in  the 
same  compartment  with  a  strikingly  handsome  man 
— many  years  her  senior,  it  is  true,  but  still  in  the 
verdure  of  his  years.  In  a  long  journey,  an  agree- 
able man  is  not  without  opportunities  to  invade  the 
reserve  of  the  most  circumspect,  the  most  atten- 
tively chaperoned  of  damsels.  In  this  instance, 
neither  the  young  girl  nor  the  maid  saw  the  neces- 
sity to  rebuff  the  proffered  courtesies  of  a  gentle- 
man so  politely  deferential,  so  unobtrusively  de- 
voted. Before  the  journey's  end,  Mademoiselle 
'Toinette,  who  was  then  seventeen,  and  M.  Mar- 


Marcel    Levignet  69 

tin,  still  on  the  gallant  side  of  forty-five,  as  I  have 
intimated,  had  established  a  sympathy  of  senti- 
ments more  ardent  than  the  character  of  their  in- 
troduction warranted.  But — to  excuse  her — 
'Toinette  had  the  vivacious  candour  of  the  South- 
ern temperament  and  the  over-confident  pride  of 
spirited  innocence.  She  was  flattered  as  a  jeune 
fille  by  the  undisguised  admiration  of  un  homme 
distingue.  What  asses  the  old  masters  were  to 
depict  the  typical  man  of  the  world  with  cloven 
hoof  and  a  spiked  tail  I  We  cast  about,  trying  to 
detect  Lucifer  by  the  smell  of  brimstone,  while  he 
smilingly  locks  arms  with  us,  exhaling  the  perfume 
of  the  rue  de  la  Paix. 

"  M.  Martin  claimed  the  right  of  escorting 
Mademoiselle  to  the  house,  and  making  himself 
known  to  Madame  Beaudais.  That  estimable 
lady  was  somewhat  scandalised  by  the  irregularity 
of  the  proceeding,  you  may  be  sure;  but  an  accom- 
plished lawyer,  seconded  by  the  generous  enthusi- 
asm of  a  thoroughly  trusted  and  trustworthy 
daughter,  did  not  find  it  difficult  to  smooth  the 
feathers  of  the  ruffled  maternal  prejudice  and  give 
them  an  extra  gloss  in  the  process. 

"  M.  Martin  won  the  respect  of  Madame  Beau- 
dais  as  easily  as  he  had  ensnared  the  artless,  ro- 
mantic fancies  of  Mademoiselle.  He  represented 
himself  as  a  single  gentleman  of  private  station  but 
large  fortune,  and  spoke  so  familiarly  of  famous 


70  Marcel    Levignet 

Parisians,  political,  social  and  professional,  that 
Madame  Beaudais  was  overwhelmed  with  the 
honour  of  knowing  a  person  of  such  worldly  conse- 
quence. She  invited  him  to  dine  the  following 
evening. 

"  Such  an  auspicious  beginning  was  the  surety 
of  a  rosy  sequel.  I  can  put  myself  into  the  frame 
of  mind  of  M.  Martin,  as  he  retired  from  the  pres- 
ence of  mother  and  daughter  after  an  interview  so 
entirely  to  his  advantage.  Shall  I  deliver  you  a 
homily  on  the  ethics  of  parental  supervision  ?  No  ? 
You  are  right.  No  wisdom  is  proof  against  the 
fortuitous,  and  maternal  instinct  is  as  illogical  as  a 
rat  gnawing  through  the  wainscot  of  a  deserted 
chamber." 


VII 


THE  intimacy  between  M.  Martin  and  the 
Beaudais  waxed  apace.  His  visits  from 
Paris  to  Marseilles  became  more  and 
more  frequent,  his  stays  in  the  maritime  town  more 
prolonged.  Strolls  in  the  Prado,  drives  along  the 
coast,  excursions  by  boat,  anything,  everything  to 
further  the  schemes  of  the  rascally  Eros.  Of 
course  Madame  Beaudais  hovered,  watchful,  over 
the  proprieties,  but,  until  you  invent  a  duenna  with  ] 
as  many  eyes  as  Argus  and  the  prevision  of  Sibyl, 
you  must  not  blame  a  doting  mother  if  she  some- 
times sees  neither  the  hawk  nor  the  hernshaw. 

"  Finally,  M.  Martin  made  a  formal  proposal 
for  the  hand  of  Mademoiselle.  Rapture  of  the 
seventh  heaven!  'Toinette  a  gossamer  on  the 
bosom  of  Zephyrus!  Only  the  rapture  was  sub- 
dued and  the  west  wind  chilled  by  the  prompt  ar- 
rival from  Paris  of  a  packet  of  papers  addressed 
to  M.  Jules  Martin,  which  that  unhappy  gentleman 
hastened  to  spread  before  the  eyes  of  Madame  and 
her  daughter.  Soul-harrowing  intervention  of  the 
unforeseen!  In  some  mysterious  way,  the  inten- 
tion of  Monsieur  to  marry  had  become  known  in 
Paris.  His  legal  advisers  had  taken  the  liberty  of 
forwarding  papers  to  remind  him  that,  in  the  event 

71 


72  Marcel    Levigq^t 


of  his  marriage  before  the  demise  of  a  certain 
elderly  lady,  Monsieur  must  forfeit  the  half  of  his 
fortune  to  the  said  lady,  her  heirs  and  assigns  for- 
ever. The  surrender  of  half  his  possessions  would 
be  an  inconvenience  to  Monsieur;  and  the  idea  was 
the  more  intolerable  for  the  reason  that  the  lady  to 
benefit  by  the  partition  was  already  nine-tenths 
gathered  to  her  fathers,  with  scarce  a  twelve^ 
month's  tenure  of  life  left  to  her.  But  if  the  sacri- 
fice of  fortune  was  insupportable,  the  abandonment 
of  his  joyous  prospects  as  the  husband  of  Mademoi- 
selle was  impossible.  The  delay  of  a  year  to  the 
consummation  of  his  ideal  hopes,  proposed  by 
Madame  Beaudais,  was  equally  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. What  to  do?  The  simple  solution  of  the 
problem  was,  of  course,  a  secret  marriage — a  secret 
to  be  guarded  only  during  the  brief,  though  vexa- 
tious, period  through  which  the  elderly  lady  would 
be  able  to  persist  in  her  annoying  longevity. 
Vigorous  protests  from  Madame;  tears  from 
Mademoiselle;  persuasive  arguments  from  Mon- 
sieur! A  passionate  week  of  conflicting  interests. 
(  Eh,  bien!  When  the  positive  evades  you,  the  ex- 
/  pedient  comes  into  play.  The  confidence  of  'Toin- 
ette  and  the  assurances  of  Monsieur  prevailed  over 
the  scruples  and  pride  of  Madame.  Sentiment  dis- 
comfited judgment,  as  it  has  a  disastrous  habit  of 
doing,  and  Madame  Beaudais  lent  herself  to  a  plan 
that  hurried  the  three  of  them  off  to  London,  M. 


Marcel   Levignet  73 

Martin  going  two  days  in  advance  to  prepare  a 
place  for  the  ladies.  The  sullen  skies  of  England 
would  have  brought  Madame  Beaudais  to  repent- 
ance before  the  legal  formalities  were  done  with, 
if  the  weather-proof  sentiments  of  her  daughter 
had  not  been  a  palliative  of  melancholy.  The  in- 
dulgent creature  braved  it  out,  not  without  mur- 
murings,  and  was  rewarded  in  due  time  with  the 
privilege  of  raining  beneficent  tears  upon  the  flutter- 
ing breast  of  *  Madame  Martin,'  as  they  drove 
from  the  church  after  a  decisive  ceremony.  While 
they  were  rejoicing  in  a  nuptial  breakfast  a  trois, 
served  in  a  private  room  of  a  quiet  hotel,  *  M. 
Martin '  drew  from  his  waistcoat  pocket  a  curious 
and  costly  ring,  which  he  offered  to  the  admiration 
of  the  ladies. 

" '  Cherie,'  he  said  to  'Toinette,  *  a  plain  gold 
ring  on  your  finger  will  excite  the  curiosity  of  your 
friends  and  imperil  our  precious  secret.  I  pro- 
pose, therefore,  that  you  substitute  this  for  the 
simple  telltale,  until  the  danger  is  past.  I  will 
put  it  on  your  finger  with  the  wish  that  our  public 
re-marriage  by  the  beloved  cure  of  your  own  native 
parish  may  be  no  longer  delayed  than  our  return  to 
Marseilles  a  month  hence.' 

"  Madame  Beaudais  had  a  superstitious  horror 
of  the  removal  of  the  wedding  ring,  and  marshalled 
the  folk  lore  of  the  Midi  for  the  past  thousand 
years  to  sustain  her  objection,  in  addition  to  urging 


74  Marcel    Levignet 

the  impiety  of  the  act.  But  the  eagerness  of  'Toin- 
ette  to  possess  the  treasure,  and  the  lovingly  good- 
natured  banter  of  M.  Martin  were  too  much  for 
the  resistance  of  the  pliant  mamma,  who  already 
began  to  be  aware  of  the  decline  of  maternal  au- 
thority. The  exchange  of  rings  was  made,  and 
Monsieur  slipped  the  plain  gold  one  into  his  pocket 
for  *  safe-keeping.' 

"  *  Some  time,'  he  said  laughingly,  *  I  will  show 
you  how  much  more  valuable  that  ring  you  have  is 
than  you  suspect,  for  it  has  the  power  to  cure  all  the 
ills  of  life  that  press  too  heavily  on  you ! ' 

"  So  it  was  that  'Toinette  came  to  have  the  cache- 
poison  jewel  that  gave  me  the  honour  of  her  ac- 
quaintance. Look  you.  I  have  it  now." 

Levignet  took  the  ring  from  a  case  he  drew  from 
his  breast-pocket  and  passed  it  across  the  table  to 
me.  When  I  had  returned  it  to  him,  after  com- 
menting on  its  richness  and  beauty  of  workman- 
ship, he  tapped  the  main  setting  with  his  finger, 
and  remarked,  with  a  fantastical  glance  and  smile : 

"  Do  you  know,  my  dear  Summerville,  that  if  I 
ever  get  quite,  quite  weary  of  this  delectable  Paris, 
I  think  it  would  be  sweet  to  go  to  rest  under  the 
benediction  of  Mademoiselle  'Toinette." 

"You — you,  Levignet!  You  take  poison! 
Preposterous !  " 

"  It  would  not  be  poison,  it  would  be  ambrosia, 
my  friend,"  he  replied,  with  an  unaccustomed  touch 


Marcel    Levignet  75 

of  sentiment  in  his  tone,  as  he  restored  the  ring  and 
case  to  his  pocket. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Levignet,"  I  said  jestingly,  "  I 
believe  you  are  in  love  with  the  memory  of 
Toinette!" 

"  C'est  vrai"  he  replied  simply,  for  the  first 
time  lapsing  into  French,  for  he  was  rather  proud 
of  his  English.  "  //  n'y  a  qu'une  seule  fleur  dans 
le  jardin  de  mon  cour" 

I  respected  the  confession,  and  there  were  a  few 
moments  of  silence  between  us,  during  which  Levi- 
gnet trimmed  and  lighted  a  cigar. 

"Allans  done!  To  our  muttons,"  he  resumed, 
in  the  old,  half  cynical,  half-humorous  tone,  blow- 
ing a  canopy  of  smoke  over  his  head.  "  A  gay 
month  followed  the  '  wedding.'  Honey  and  rose 
colour  everywhere.  Mad  rushes  to  historic  spots 
that  were  seen  through  a  haze  of  amatory  emotions ; 
dashes  to  Continental  spas  and  casinos,  dissipated 
capitals  and  romantic  seclusions,  German  towns  and 
Italian  hamlets — the  usual  olla  podrida  of  the 
honeymoon  incontinence.  Then,  affecting  leave- 
takings  as  Madame  Beaudais  headed  for  Marseilles 
and  M.  and  Mme.  Martin  hurried  to  Paris,  Mon- 
sieur having  business  that  urgently  demanded  his 
presence. 

"  The  question  had  been  how  to  deal  with  the 
uncle  of  'Toinette,  the  General  de  Francault. 
Should  he  be  admitted  into  the  secret?  Madame 


76  Marcel    Levignet 

Beaudais  had  urged  that  her  brother  be  taken  fully 
into  the  confidence,  but  M.  Martin  advanced  so 
many  irrefutable  reasons  for  the  postponement  of 
the  conference  that  'Toinette  was  convinced  of  the 
superior  wisdom  of  his  plan.  It  was  agreed  that 
General  de  Francault  should  be  kept  in  the  dark 
for  the  present.  There  were  difficulties,  of  course. 
'Toinette  could  not  easily  remain  long  in  Paris 
without  risk  that  the  fact  would  become  known  to 
the  General  or  some  member  of  his  family.  The 
bold  course  always  offers  the  largest  degree  of  se- 
curity, as  M.  Martin  very  well  knew,  so  he  wisely 
determined  to  have  'Toinette  go  at  once  to  the 
avuncular  residence  in  her  virgin  character,  her 
maid,  blissfully  ignorant  of  any  change  in  the  state 
of  her  young  mistress,  coming  from  the  South  to 
give  colour  to  the  innocent  deception. 

"  But  provision  had  to  be  made  for  the  pursuit 
of  conjugal  happiness,  and  to  that  end  M.  Martin 
introduced  'Toinette  to  a  certain  Madame  Clifton, 
an  Englishwoman  supposed  to  be  fabulously  rich, 
who  had  come  to  reside  in  Paris  because  a  consti- 
tutional delicacy  made  the  climate  of  London  in- 
tolerable to  her.  The  readily  received  excuse  for 
the  intimacy  that  established  itself  between 
Madame  Clifton  and  'Toinette  was  the  desire  of 
'Toinette  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the  English 
tongue.  Everything  is  justified,  my  dear  Summer- 
ville,  that  furthers  the  quest  of  knowledge,  and  I 


Marcel    Levignet  77 

do  not  pretend  to  charge  General  de  Francault  with 
unpardonable  laxity  in  permitting  his  niece  to  en- 
joy a  large  freedom  in  her  intercourse  with 
Madame  Clifton,  whom  he  could  but  accept  at  her 
own  valuation.  I  have  myself  met  few  women 
who  bring  to  the  service  of  the  devil  such  a  thor- 
oughly puritan  severity  of  conduct  and  demean- 
our as  distinguishes  that  remarkable  woman.  A 
church  devotee,  a  rigorous  observer  of  all  the  ex- 
ternal proprieties,  as  exclusive  as  the  most  punc- 
tilious of  the  French  noblesse,  she  went  far,  in  the 
two  chance  conversations  I  have  had  with  her,  to 
shake  my  faith  in  the  truth  of  'Toinette's  story  in 
its  relation  to  her.  She  became  a  frequent  guest 
of  the  de  Francaults,  and  so  completely  gained  the 
esteem  of  the  family  that  it  was  regarded  as  a  priv- 
ilege to  have  'Toinette  in  her  care  even  for  a  week 
at  a  time.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  M.  Martin 
knew  the  open  sesame  to  Madame  Clifton's  man- 
sion, which  served  him  when  'Toinette  was  a  visitor. 

"  One  evening,  when  the  three  were  sitting  over 
their  coffee  after  dinner,  Madame  Clifton  suddenly 
asked,  with  a  rather  peculiar  smile: 

"  *  Well,  monsieur,  how  much  longer  is  the  coup 
to  be  deferred?  I  begin  to  find  the  situation 
troublesome.' 

u  '  Ah,'  said  Monsieur  dolorously,  turning  to  fix 
his  eyes  on  'Toinette,  *  Madame  Clifton  is  becom- 
ing anxious.  She  is  expecting  friends  to  stop  with 


78  Marcel   Levignet 

her,  and  fears  that  she  cannot  conceal*  from  them 
a  secret  so  necessary  to  our  future  welfare,  my  be- 
loved 'Toinette.  The  cruel  lady  is  to  turn  us  out, 
my  soul.' 

" '  Turn  us  out,'  echoed  'Toinette.  *  What 
then,  are  we  to  do,  mon  man?  I  shall  not  be  able 
to  see  you  1 ' 

"  '  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness  on  that  score, 
cherie,'  said  M.  Martin,  playfully  tossing  a  crumb 
of  biscuit  at  her.  '  Drive  that  cloud  of  anxiety 
from  your  eyes.  It  is  not  as  serious  as  you  fear. 
I  have  taken  a  house  that  shall  be  our  home — quite 
a  home  of  our  own,  where  we  shall  be  as  independ- 
ent as  becomes  a  devoted  married  couple.' 

'"  *  But  I  cannot  go  there ! '  objected  'Toinette. 
*  How  could  I  explain  my  absence  from  my  uncle  ? ' 
*  You  will  have  nothing  to  explain,  my  dear,' 
interposed  Madame  Clifton.  *  Your  uncle  shall 
not  know  that  you  do  not  come  to  me  as  usual.  It 
is  much  the  better  arrangement,  my  dear,  and  will 
take  some  tension  off  my  nerves.' 

1  'Toinette  was  soon  enthusiastic  over  the  idea 
of  being  mistress  of  her  own  home. 

"  '  Come,'  said  M.  Martin,  *  get  together  what 
things  are  necessary,  and  we  will  go  to  make  ac- 
quaintance of  our  new  home  this  very  evening.' 

"  It  was  done  as  M.  Martin  suggested,  and 
'Toinette  passed  her  first  night  in  the  house  in  the 
rue  de  1'Universite." 


VIII 

FIVE  months  of  clandestine  romance  passed 
unclouded,  and  then  by  degrees,  the  manner 
of  Monsieur  changed  somewhat.  He  be- 
came less  ardent  in  his  devotion.  He  pleaded  oc- 
cupations. He  often  failed  of  his  appointments, 
and  'Toinette  passed  lonely  nights  in  the  desolate 
house,  having  been  forbidden  by  Monsieur  to  be 
friendly  with  Mme.  Arnot,  the  housekeeper.  He 
would  make  journeys  that  kept  him  from  town  for 
a  week  or  two,  without  offering  to  take  'Toinette 
with  him.  Most  unpleasant  of  all,  he  began  to 
hint  that  it  might  be  better  for  'Toinette  to  return 
to  Marseilles  until  the  *  elderly  lady '  had  been 
wafted  to  a  region  that  takes  no  reckoning  of  for- 
feitures and  reversions  of  a  material  character. 

"  'Toinette,  though  of  a  trustful  nature,  did  not 
lack  discrimination.  Her  pride  was  touched,  at 
length,  and  the  awkwardness  of  her  position  as  an 
unacknowledged  wife  sharpened  her  resentment  of 
unkindnesses  that  were  very  near  akin  to  humiliat- 
ing slights.  She  came  to  the  conclusion  that  her 
personal  rights  were  superior  to  any  consideration 
of  estates  and  fortunes,  and  that  it  was  more  im- 
portant to  establish  her  wifehood  in  the  respect  of 
her  family  and  acquaintances  than  to  secure  a  for- 

79 


8o  Marcel    Levignet 

tune  greater  than  her  needs  by  means  which  her 
calm  judgment  condemned  as  despicable  and 
fraudulent. 

"  Having  resolved  to  set  the  matter  in  this  light 
before  the  mind  of  M.  Martin,  and  yet  apprehen- 
sive of  his  opposition,  'Toinette  drove  to  the  house 
of  Madame  Clifton  to  consult  her  as  a  friend. 
Madame  Clifton  was  very  sympathetic.  She  con- 
curred entirely  in  the  views  of  'Toinette.  *  When 
was  she  to  see  M.  Martin  ?  '  'Toinette  had  had  an 
appointment  with  him  that  evening. 

"  '  I  was  to  have  gone  there  to  dine  with  him. 
But  I  was  troubled.  I  have  been  of  a  mind  not  to 
see  him  in  this  way  again.  He  may  have  got  tired 
of  waiting  for  me,  and  left  the  house.* 

"  *  Go  see,'  advised  Madame  Clifton.  *  And 
after  you  have  talked  with  him,  come  tell  me  what 
he  says.  I  am  curious.' 

"  Madame  Clifton  laughed  in  a  way  that  struck 
'Toinette  oddly. 

"'  Why  do  you  laugh?' 

" '  You  young  girls  are  so  droll,'  replied 
Madame  Clifton.  '  Trifling  distinctions  make  such 
a  vast  difference  in  your  views  of  the  commonplace. 
But  I  hope  you  will  have  good  judgment.' 

1  'Toinette  took  a  cab  to  the  rue  de  1'Universite. 
M.  Martin  having  given  up  the  expectation  of  see- 
ing her,  had  dined  alone,  sparingly,  and,  complain- 
ing of  a  headache,  had  gone  to  his  room. 


Marcel    Levignet  81 

"  'Toinette  found  him  already  asleep  in  bed. 

"'Oh!  you  have  come?'  he  asked,  on  being 
aroused.  *  I  despaired  of  seeing  you.  Pardon  me 
that  a  megrim  was  too  much  for  my  gallantry.  I 
took  some  morphine  and  I  fear  I'm  too  heavy- 
witted  to  talk  agreeably.  I  shall  fall  asleep  in  the 
midst  of  a  sentence.  We  can  chat  over  our  coffee 
in  the  morning.  My  impression  is  that  I  have 
something  to  tell  you.  Come.' 

"  '  No'  said  'Toinette  '  I  shall  never  again  be  a 
wife  to  you  until  you  have  properly  presented  me  to 
your  friends  and  freed  me  from  the  necessity  of 
deceiving  my  own.' 

*  Very  well.     We  can  discuss  that  in  the  morn- 
ing.    I'm  too  dull  for  an  argument  now.' 

"  '  There  is  to  be  no  argument.  You  must  take 
me  out  of  this  false  position  at  once.  I  shall  refuse 
to  see  you  until  you  come  as  my  husband  to  claim 
me  in  my  uncle's  house.' 

"  *  Oh,  very  well,'  said  Monsieur,  with  a  laugh. 
*  Let  it  be  that  way.' 

"  His  careless  speech,  his  indifference,  filled 
'Toinette  with  a  fear  she  could  not  define. 

"  '  You  will  let  me  be  separated  from  you  ?  You 
think  more  of  the  superfluous  part  of  your  fortune 
than  you  do  of  your  wife — her  happiness — her 
credit — her  honour  ?  ' 

"  '  My  dear  'Toinette,  if  you  are  going  to  be 
melodramatic,  first  hand  me  that  phial  on  the  table 


82  Marcel    Levignet 

there.  I  must  clear  my  head  to  appreciate  your 
rhapsody.  I  have  wondered  what  your  anger 
would  be  like.  You  have  a  splendid  face  for  the 
violent  emotions.' 

"  'Toinette  turned  to  the  table  to  fetch  him  the 
phial,  and,  in  reaching  for  it,  knocked  a  silver  card- 
case  to  the  floor  from  a  heap  of  articles  M.  Martin 
had  left  near  the  edge  of  the  table.  The  case  flew 
open  and  scattered  some  cards  on  the  rug.  'Toin- 
ette took  the  antidote  to  M.  Martin,  who  drank  a 
portion  of  the  liquid,  re-corked  the  phial  and  placed 
it  under  his  pillow. 

"  l  Now,  cherie,  if  you  will  have  the  grace  to  re- 
move your  hat,  to  give  a  more  sociable  air  to  our 
tete-a-tete,  I  will  undertake  to  persuade  you  to 
change  your  resolutions.' 

"  'Toinette  silently  took  off  her  hat,  and,  on  go- 
ing to  put  it  on  the  table,  observed  the  fallen  case 
and  scattered  cards.  She  stooped  to  pick  them  up, 
as  M.  Martin  was  saying : 

"  '  We  are  all  creatures  of  destiny,  my  well-be- 
loved, and  are  no  more  responsible  for  the  motives 
that  impel  us  to  action  than  we  are  for  the  accidents 
that  befall  us.  A  foolish  convention  has  placed 
our  natural  instincts  and  holiest  impulses  under  the 
ban,  and  has  anathematised  the  very  law  that  gave 
us  being;  but  intelligent  minds  that  see  clearly 
above  and  beyond  the  ignorant  prejudices  of  the 
vulgar,  perceive  that  return  to  the  laws  of  Nature 


Marcel    Levignet  83 

is  inevitable Good  Heaven!     What  is  the 

matter?' 

"  'Toinette  had  read  the  inscription  on  one  of 
the  cards,  and,  excitedly  comparing  it  with  the 
others,  had  uttered  a  cry  of  consternation  on  find- 
ing that  all  the  cards  bore  the  same  distinguished 
name. 

"  '  Whose  cards  are  these?  '  she  demanded  fear- 
fully, holding  them  toward  him  as  she  hurried  to 
the  bedside.  '  Are  they  your  own?  ' 

"  '  And  if  they  are,  loveliest  of  women?  ' 

"  '  Are  you  Judge  Chartier?  ' 

"  *  Is  it  not  an  honourable  name,  cherie? ' 

"  '  And  you  are  not  Jules  Martin?  ' 

"  '  Oh,  yes — to  you,  belle  'Toinette.' 

"'Oh,  God!     Oh,  God!' 

"  She  clutched  at  her  breast,  and  stared  at  him. 
She  gazed  with  motionless  horror  into  the  hand- 
some face,  seeing  a  mockingly  confident  smile  part- 
ing the  dark-bearded  lips,  a  cruelly  triumphant 
twinkle  in  the  eyes  that  regarded  her.  She  was 
dumb-stricken  with  the  agony  of  the  one  thought 
that  beat  at  her  brain. 

"  '  What  does  it  matter,  Tonine?     Paris  is  the  > 
elysium  of  souls  like  ours.     It  is  the  paradise  of  \ 
unwritten  romance.     You  are  but  one  of  thousands 
who  give  brilliance  to  our  gay  world.     What  signi- 
fies a  name  to  the  joyous  ? — mart  or  amant,  madame  \ 
or  maitresse!    Have  we  not  been  happy?     Shall  - 


84  Marcel    Levignet 

we  not  be  happier  still?  Shall  a  priest  say  when 
and  how  much  we  may  drink  from  the  chalice  of 
Life  I  Come,  my  beautiful !  I  hold  out  my  arms 
to  you.  If  you  have  been  deceived  in  them,  it  was 
the  deception  of  love.  Let  love  make  repara- 
tion. I  am  yours;  you  are  mine.  Come;  the  in- 
evitable is  the  divine.  Destiny  has  united  us. 
Let  us  not  profane  the  decree  of  Fate.' 

"  It  seemed  to  'Toinette  that  she  had  lost  com- 
mand over  her  powers  and  faculties.  She  listened, 
standing  in  the  fixed  attitude  of  despair,  silent, 
numb,  not  conscious  of  an  emotion. 

"'What!  are  you  turned  to  stone?  Then 
Pygmalion's  kisses  shall  quicken  the  glorious 
Galatea ! ' 

"  He  rose  laughingly  and  came  toward  her,  his 
arms  outstretched  to  embrace  her.  The  stiletto- 
like  pin  she  had  taken  from  her  hat  was  still  in  her 
hand.  He  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  drew  her 
toward  him,  laughing.  The  laugh  sharpened  into 
a  cry;  his  hold  upon  her  relaxed;  he  fell  to  the  floor. 
There  were  some  spasmodic  movements,  and  he  lay 
still." 


IX 


5^  •  HiOINETTE,  vaguely  realising  what  had 
happened,  knelt  beside  him,  passionately 

-*-  calling  him  by  name,  trying  to  raise  him. 
A  blood-stain  on  the  bosom  of  his  night  robe 
caught  her  eye.  A  great  fear  seized  her.  She 
rose,  snatched  up  her  hat,  ran  from  the  room  and 
down  into  the  street. 

"  A  cab  was  just  passing  the  door,  but  the 
driver,  nodding  sleepily  on  the  box,  did  not  observe 
her.  She  crouched  among  the  shadows  till  the  way 
was  clear,  and  then  ran  swiftly,  like  one  pursued. 
She  was  not  aware  of  the  direction  she  followed 
until  she  found  herself,  panting  and  exhausted,  pull- 
ing at  the  bell  of  Madame  Clifton's  street  door. 
The  cord  was  pulled  by  the  concierge  and  she  en- 
tered, slamming  the  door  behind  her.  She  called 
her  name  to  the  concierge  as  she  passed  the  window 
and  hurried  up  the  dark  stairs.  She  beat  at 
Madame's  door,  and  after  a  time  Madame  herself 
admitted  her. 

"  '  What  brings  you  here  at  this  hour? '  she  de- 
manded apprehensively. 

"  '  I  have  killed  him.' 

"  Madame  Clifton  hurried  her  into  the  bedroom 
85 


86  Marcel   Levignet 

and  bolted  the  doors,  and  then,  seizing  'Toinette 
by  the  shoulders,  flung  her  upon  the  bed,  clutched 
her  by  the  throat  and  seemed  bent  on  strangling 
her  as  she  cried : 

"  '  How  dared  you  come  here !  How  dared  you 
come  to  me!  You  miserable  thing!  Do  you 
think  I  am  to  be  ruined  by  you!  I'll  kill  you! 
I'll  kill  you!' 

"  Nothing  better  could  have  happened  to  'Toin- 
ette. The  physical  violence  roused,  as  nothing  else 
could  have  done,  the  instinct  of  self-preservation. 
Her  efforts  to  save  herself  from  the  furious  rage  of 
her  assailant  drove  from  her  mind  the  horror  of 
the  last  half-hour.  She  was  the  younger  and  the 
stronger  woman.  She  freed  herself,  and  ran  to 
open  a  window. 

"  '  If  you  come  near  me,  I  will  call  to  the  people 
in  the  street ! ' 

"'Come  away  from  the  window!  I  won't 
touch  you  !  But  you  must  quit  my  house !  I  will 
not  have  you  found  here !  ' 

"'  Where  shall  I  go?' 

"  *  What  do  I  care !  Go  to  your  uncle — or  to 
the  river;  the  river  is  the  safer  place  for  such  mad 
fools  as  you!  But  leave  my  house!  Now! 
Now!' 

"  '  Yes,  I  will  go  to  the  river.  It  is  the  better 
place  for  mad  fools  like  me.' 

"  Madame  Clifton  hastened  to  unbolt  the  door 


Marcel   Levignet  87 

and  open  it  as  'Toinette  came  toward  her.  But, 
suddenly  changing  her  mind,  she  closed  and  fas- 
tened it  again. 

"  *  No.  I  won't  trust  you.  You  haven't  the 
courage  to  go  to  the  river.  You  will  go  to  your 
uncle,  and  snivel  out  some  lie  to  throw  the  blame 
on  me.  I  know  your  kind.  I'll  not  lose  sight  of 
you.  You  shall  go  with  me.  Come!  Come! 
Help  me  to  pack.  I  know  a  hole  where  we  can 
hide  until  I  find  a  chance  to  get  away  from  this 
cursed  France,  then  you  may  go  to  the  devil. 
Fool !  fool !  fool !  You  didn't  know  enough  to  mend 
a  torn  garment.  You  needs  must  hang  yourself 
with  it.' 

"  The  idea  of  flight  seized  upon  the  disordered 
mind  of  'Toinette.  She  obeyed  feverishly  the  di- 
rections of  Madame  Clifton,  and  their  common 
peril  established  a  truce  between  them  as  they 
made  their  preparations.  In  a  few  minutes,  pro- 
vided only  with  light  hand-bags,  they  left  the 
rooms,  locking  the  doors  behind  them,  and  hurried 
down  the  stairs.  It  was  necessary  to  arouse  the 
concierge  to  open  the  outer  door.  Madame  Clif- 
ton made  a  virtue  of  the  necessity.  She  rapped  at 
the  window,  calling,  until  the  concierge  came 
grumblingly  to  open  it. 

"  '  Monsieur  Fodel,  Mademoiselle  Beaudais  has 
received  word  that  her  mother  is  dangerously  ill. 
I  am  going  to  Marseilles  with  her.  I  shall  be  gone 


88  Marcel    Levignet 

several  days.  Explain  to  anyone  who  calls.  Open 
the  door,  please.' 

"  They  found  a  cab  in  the  next  street. 

"  Gare  de  Lyons,'  ordered  Madame  Clifton. 

"  '  At  what  time  can  I  get  a  train  for  Mar- 
seilles ?  '  she  demanded  at  the  ticket  window  of  the 
station.  . 

"  '  Train  for  Lyons  in  twenty  minutes,  madame.' 

"  '  Two  tickets  for  the  first  class.  Is  there  a 
compartment  exclusively  for  ladies  ?  ' 

"  '  Yes,  madame/ 

"  At  train  time  Madame  Clifton  ostentatiously 
conferred  with  the  guard,  tipped  him  to  secure 
Mademoiselle  and  herself  in  the  compartment,  and 
in  a  variety  of  ways  attracted  attention  to  herself 
before  entering  the  carriage  to  take  her  place  be- 
side 'Toinette.  As  soon  as  the  guard  turned  to 
leave  them,  Madame  took  from  her  pocket  a  rail- 
way carriage  key,  and  proceeded  to  unlock  the 
opposite  door. 

"  *  Be  ready  to  follow  me,'  she  said  to  'Toinette. 
c  The  moment  the  train  starts,  we  will  get  out.  Be 
careful  how  you  jump  down.  If  you  fall,  I  shall 
not  wait  for  you.' 

"  Madame's  ingenious  plan  was  successfully 
carried  out,  perilous  as  it  was.  You  may  blame 
me,  but  I  respect  a  resourceful,  definitive  intelli- 
gence, my  dear  Summerville.  Even  a  criminal 
genius  is  a  splendid  abnormity.  Some  day  I  will 


Marcel   Levignet  89 

give  you  a  convincing  proof  that  Madame  Clifton 
has  the  kind  of  perverted  talent  that  would  im- 
mortalise a  Cabinet  Minister  had  he  the  use  of  it. 
That  as  it  goes.  But  I  have  not  erred  in  including 
Madame  Clifton  among  the  exceptionally  endowed 
protagonists  of  the  social  comedy.  Ninety-nine 
women  in  a  hundred  of  her  general  type  would 
have  figured  on  the  probable  advantage  of  six  on 
eight  hours  free  time  before  the  discovery  of  the 
body  of  Judge  Chartier,  and  would  have  made 
haste  to  get  out  of  Paris,  if  not  out  of  France  en- 
tirely. Madame  Clifton  asked  for  no  better 
asylum  than  the  open  streets  of  Paris. 

"  Within  an  hour  after  the  retreat  from  the 
train,  Madame  Clifton  and  'Toinette  were  safely 
sheltered  in  an  upper  back  room  of  a  miserable 
tenement  somewhere  off  the  Faubourg  St.  Denis, 
and  a  forbidding  looking  crone,  fulsomely  devoted 
to  Madame,  was  parcelling  them  out  coarse  gar- 
ments to  put  on  in  place  of  their  own." 


X 


WHEN  the  sun  came  peering  over  the 
housetops  to  cheer  the  alert  '  pavement 
merchants'  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Porte  St.  Denis,  Madame  Clifton  and  'Toinette, 
transformed  by  smirchings  of  lamp-black  as  well 
as  by  their  unaccustomed  attire,  sat  on  opposite 
corners  of  the  way,  ready  to  vend  flowers  from 
their  ample  baskets. 

"  *  This  is  our  business  for  the  next  week  or  ten 
days,'  Madame  Clifton  admonished  'Toinette. 
1  Don't  play  the  fool  with  your  pretty  face;  and 
haggle  for  the  sous.  At  the  end  of  the  week  I  shall 
know  what  to  do.' 

"  The  morning  papers  appeared,  and  though 
they  contained  no  mention  of  the  midnight  affair 
in  the  rue  de  1'Universite,  they  were  none  the  less 
eagerly  scanned  by  the  miserable  'Toinette,  to 
whom  the  hours  had  been  ages,  and  to  whose  ear 
every  footstep  behind  her  sounded  a  note  of  terror. 
Madame  Clifton,  on  the  contrary,  would  have  been 
perfectly  serene  and  found  pleasure  in  her  excel- 
lently sustained  impersonation  but  for  a  trifling 
anxiety  lest  'Toinette  should  betray  herself. 

"At  noon,  they  took  up  their  nearly  emptied 
90 


baskets  and  trudged  back  to  the  tenement  off  the 
Faubourg  St.  Denis,  Madame  saying  to  'Toinette : 

"  *  I  am  very  well  satisfied  with  you.  You  have 
shown  more  courage  and  self-possession  than  I 
thought  you  had.  There  may  be  something  in  you 
after  all.  If  there  is,  I  can  give  you  a  career.  I 
shall  see  how  you  will  behave  this  afternoon,  when 
the  evening  papers  come  out.  They  will  be  sure 
to  have  it,  and  everybody  will  be  talking  about  it. 
You  must  nerve  yourself  to  listen  to  the  street 
comment  without  moving  a  muscle.  Get  used  in 
your  own  mind  to  hearing  them  talk  about  the 
assassination  of  Judge  Chattier;  then,  when  you 
really  do  hear  them,  you  can  keep  your  headl  I 
will  practice  it  with  you  when  we  get  home  to  our 
attic.' 

"  'Toinette  moaned  a  protest. 

"  '  Don't  be  a  fool.  The  universe  hasn't  sus- 
pended operations  because  of  what  you  have  done. 
Everything  is  going  on  the  same.  You  attach  too 
much  importance  to  yourself.  You  egotists  ridic- 
ulously exaggerate  the  significance  of  your  doing 
and  not  doing.  You  imagine  that  all  Paris  is 
thinking  about  you  now.  No  one  is  thinking  about 
you  but  ourselves.  There  are  five  million  egotists 
in  Paris.  Half  of  them  are  assassins  in  fact  or 
potentially.  Don't  give  yourself  airs.  It  is  not 
such  a  wonderful  thing  to  kill  a  man.  Judge 
Chartier  was  amusing  and  useful,  and  I  shall  miss 


92  Marcel    Levignet 

him;  but  what  I  regret  most  is  the  loss  of  the  50,- 
ooo  francs  he  paid  me  annually.  If  you  had  not 
been  such  a  silly  provincial,  everything  might  have 
been  charmingly  arranged.  I  hate  fools  who  make 
a  fetich  of  virtue — as  if  there  were  really  room  for 
such  a  fantastical  cult  in  our  busy  world.  This  is 
the  age  of  gold — nothing  else  counts.  If  you 
have  plenty  of  that,  you  need  no  other  credentials. 
You  will  find  that  out  before  you  are  much  older, 
if  you  will  let  me  save  you  from  the  predicament 
into  which  your  silly  sentiments  have  pushed 
you.' 

"  Madame  Clifton's  practical  way  of  viewing 
the  situation  was  revolting  to  'Toinette;  but  I 
imagine  the  tactics  were  precisely  the  ones  needed 
to  meet  the  emergency,  for  they  served  to  make 
'Toinette  lay  hold  on  herself  and  pull  herself  res- 
olutely together.  Our  antipathies  often  serve  us 
better  in  crises  than  our  sympathies.  As  for  me, 
my  ambition  is  to  play  my  wits  against  Madame 
Clifton  one  day.  It  will  come;  it  will  come,  my 
friend. 

"  When  Madame  heard  them  crying  Le  Jour, 
La  Patrie  in  the  streets,  she  hastened  to  get  copies 
and  turn  to  the  sensation  page.  The  first  glance 
disconcerted  her.  There  was  the  matter  for  which 
she  looked — but  what  unexpected  headlines — 
what  an  undreamed-of  tone  in  the  article!  No 
hint  of  assassination,  no  suggestion  of  mystery — 


Marcel   Levignet  93 

merely  an  elaborate  obituary  notice  in  the  profes- 
sional vein  of  lamentation  over  a  public  character 
suddenly  struck  down  in  a  prosaically  natural  way! 
Judge  Chartier  had  passed  a  light-hearted  evening 
with  his  friend  Dr.  Ribault !  In  the  very  midst  of 
leave-taking,  he  gave  a  startled  exclamation  and 
fell,  caught  in  the  arms  of  his  friend !  The  doctor, 
who  only  too  well  conjectured  what  was  the  nature 
of  the  attack,  immediately  administered  restora- 
tives ;  but  he  soon  saw  that  there  was  little  hope  of 
saving  his  friend's  life!  His  thoughts  turned  to 
the  stricken  family  awaiting  the  return  of  the  be- 
loved husband  and  father!  Could  he  get  Judge 
Chartier  home  in  time  to  allow  wife  and  daughter 
at  least  one  last  look  upon  his  living  face?  The 
attempt  should  be  made!  Dr.  Ribault  ordered 
out  his  carriage  with  all  speed,  the  semi-conscious 
gentleman  was  borne  to  it  carefully  and  driven  to 
his  home  in  the  Avenue  d'Antin !  But  it  was  only 
the  shell  of  the  noble  and  gifted  soul  that  was 
carried  into  the  library  and  laid  reverently  on  the 
leather  sofa ! 

"  What  did  it  all  mean?  Madame  looked  from 
one  to  the  other  of  the  two  papers,  but  the  accounts 
were  substantially  the  same,  and  the  editorial  com- 
ment was  in  accord  with  them.  She  went  into  the 
back  room,  where  'Toinette  lay  on  the  bed,  her 
face  hidden  in  the  pillow. 

"  *  Here,  get  up !    Look  at  this ! '  Madame  com- 


94  Marcel    Levignet 

manded.  '  Have  you  been  making  a  fool  of  your- 
self, or  is  this  all  rubbish?  ' 

"  'Toinette  read  the  article  in  a  dazed,  be- 
wildered way.  She  could  not  comprehend  it.  Was 
it  all  illusion?  Was  that  frightful  vision  which 
seemed  to  have  burnt  into  her  brain  only  the  crea- 
tion of  her  heart-sick  fancy?  But  her  glance  fell 
upon  the  bandaged  hand  holding  one  side  of  the 
paper.  If  there  was  a  dream,  a  fancy,  an  illusion, 
how  came  that  triangular  wound  in  her  palm? 

"  *  I  don't  understand,'  she  said  to  Madame 
Clifton. 

"  '  This  newspaper  stuff  is  all  a  lie,  then?  ' 

11 '  Yes.' 

"  '  Then  there  are  but  two  possible  explanations 
of  it;  either  the  family  is  determined  to  avoid  a 
scandal  by  concealing  the  fact  of  the  crime — or, 
the  police  have  set  a  trap  for  us.' 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  it  is  a  trick  of  the  police !  '  ex- 
claimed 'Toinette,  as  if  she  were  already  in  the 
web. 

" '  My  opinion  is  exactly  the  contrary,'  said 
Madame,  with  positiveness.  '  I  do  not  credit  the 
police  with  the  cleverness  to  lay  such  a  snare.  The 
police  are  being  duped  themselves.  I  know  this 
Dr.  Ribault.  He  is  an  unscrupulous  old  fox,  and 
he  is  an  intimate  of  the  Chartier  household.  It 
would  not  surprise  me  in  the  least  if  this  whole 
story  were  his  own  concoction  and  he  had  imposed 


Marcel    Levignet  95 

it  on  the  family.  He  has  a  reason  of  his  own  for 
deceiving  the  world,  including  the  Chartiers,  I 
haven't  a  doubt,  and  he  befooled  the  mother  and 
her  children  as  he  is  now  befooling  the  public. 
That  is  my  theory,  and  I  shall  act  on  it.  If  my 
judgment  is  correct,  we  are  absolutely  safe.  All 
we  have  to  do  is  to  get  out  of  the  little  scrape  into 
which  we  have  fallen  by  our  unnecessary  flight. 
We  must  take  the  first  train  for  Marseilles.  The 
chances  are  that  we  will  encounter  none  of  the  rail- 
way people  who  saw  us  last  night.  If  we  do,  the 
simple  way  to  cheat  curiosity  is  to  say  that  I  felt 
too  ill  to  travel  last  night,  and  that  we  left  the 
train  just  before  it  started;  and  I  can  lament  the 
delay  in  a  fashion  to  convince  shrewder  men  than 
railway  employes.  From  Marseilles  we  will  send 
a  telegram  to  satisfy  your  uncle  as  to  your  running 
away  without  telling  him,  and  we  can  manage 
your  mother  without  difficulty.' 

"  Madame  Clifton  was  as  vivacious  as  one  of 
the  perennial  dlvettes  of  a  cafe  chantant.  She  took 
her  hand  in  the  game  started  by  Dr.  Ribault  with 
the  gaiety  of  an  unfailingly  lucky  and  expert 
player. 

"  She  called  the  old  hag  to  fetch  from  hiding 
their  proper  toilettes  and  laughingly  escaped  ex- 
planations by  tossing  several  gold  pieces  into  the 
claws  of  the  woman.  The  creature  had  no  wish  to 
question  the  conduct  or  sound  the  motive  of  a 


96  Marcel    Levignet 

patroness  as  liberal  as  she  knew  Madame  Clifton 
to  be.  Ah!  Summerville,  Paris  is  a  city  of  mar- 
vellous convenience  for  the  exercise  of  one's  genius, 
if  one's  purse  has  the  right  jingle.  Midas  need 
not  have  been  ashamed  of  his  ears  had  his  palace 
fronted  on  our  incomparable  Champs  Elysees. 
He  might  have  flaunted  them  and  his  vices  in  the 
face  of  the  modern  world  with  splendid  impudence 
as  long  as  gold  dropped  from  his  finger-tips. 
Glorious  age!  I  love  it!  We  can  scoff  at  the 
divinities  of  heaven  while  we  propitiate  Mammon 
with  the  largesse  of  material  opulence.  We  have 
bound  Religion  and  Mortality  to  the  wheels  of  our 
gilded  chariot  and  made  them  our  bond-slaves. 
We  fling  coins  into  the  folds  of  their  mud-spattered 
garments,  and  they  absolve  us  with  smiling  bene- 
diction. Church  and  State  scramble  in  the  offal 
for  the  minted  tokens  we  fling  there  in  our  revels; 
and  the  incense  of  our  altars,  sacred  and  profane, 
is  the  intoxicating  reek  of  our  consuming  passions 
that  set  the  mad  world  dancing,  priest  and  poten- 
tate, patriarch  and  judge,  among  the  rest.  If  we 
worship  gods  of  metal,  let  us  reverence  the  priest- 
esses of  Matter,  be  they  like  the  gorgeous  Madame 
Clifton  or  like  her  sordid  confederate  of  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Denis.  Big  cog  or  little  cog,  whatever 
keeps  the  wheel  spinning  deserves  the  applause  of 
the  voluptuary.  Fill  your  glass." 


XI 


MADAME  CLIFTON  and  'Toinette 
make  their  way  to  Marseilles  without 
adventure;  despatch  a  serviceable  mes- 
sage to  General  de  Francault;  persuade  Madame 
Beaudais  to  a  few  days  of  illness  that  is  not  alto- 
gether a  sham,  for  the  dear  lady  is  languishing 
under  a  persistent  cough  caught  out  of  the  fogs  of 
England;  and  at  the  end  of  a  week  Madame  Clif- 
ton, leaving  the  wretched  'Toinette  to  cheer  the 
invalidism  of  her  mother,  returns  serenely  to  Paris 
and  resumes  the  orderly  life  of  benevolent  piety  so 
rudely,  but  needlessly  interrupted.  Meantime,  a 
stout  casket  of  mahogany,  sealed  under  a  marble 
block  of  substantial  weight,  had  hidden  the  wax- 
filled  puncture  in  the  breast  of  Judge  Chartier 
from  the  range  of  inquisitive  eyes.  Everything 
adjusted  to  a  marvel.  Nothing  to  fear;  nothing 
to  apprehend.  Madame  Clifton  was  free  to  drive 
at  pleasure  in  the  Bois;  lean,  lorgnette  in  hand,  over 
the  edge  of  her  box  at  the  Opera ;  relax  her  dignity 
in  some  favourite  salon;  nibble  her  partridge  wing 
in  what  fashionable  restaurant  she  chose,  confident 
that  "  all  Paris  "  looking  on  would  approve  her  as 
the  model  of  propriety. 

97 


98  Marcel    Levignet 

!  'Toinette  remained  with  her  mother,  meeting 
the  good  woman's  inquiries  about  M.  Martin  with 
evasions  that  in  time  grew  into  elaborate  romances 
calculated  to  soothe  the  maternal  solicitude. 
Broken  hearts  have  a  way  of  mending,  you  know, 
like  the  claw  of  a  lobster,  when  Nature  is  the  phy- 
sician; but  broken  hearts  do  not  mend  under  nor- 
mal conditions  any  more  readily  than  the  stings  of 
conscience  abate  under  the  influence  of  an  increas- 
ing sense  of  security.  In  caring  for  her  mother, 
'Toinette  gradually  became  less  concerned  about 
herself ;  and,  when,  a  year  or  eighteen  months  later, 
Madame  Beaudais  shivered  and  shrank  into  silence 
at  the  passing  of  the  Mistral,  the  only  burden  that 
weighed  heavily  on  'Toinette's  heart  was  the  loss 
of  this  most  unwise,  but  tenderly  loving  and  be- 
loved mother. 

"  Having  no  other  home,  'Toinette  came  to 
Paris  in  her  orphanage  to  live  with  General  de 
Francault,  her  uncle.  That  was  in  the  early 
spring  of  1891.  It  was  an  evening  toward  the 
end  of  November  of  that  year  that  I  saw  her  first, 
when  I  returned  her  the  ring  which  I  had  got  from 
Benoist." 

Levignet  emptied  his  glass,  dried  his  moustache 
and  tossed  his  serviette  on  the  table. 


XII 


THERE,  Summerville,  you  have  my  version 
of  the  story  she  told  me  in  the  small  hours 
of  the  next  morning,  seated  in  the  great 
chair  of  my  guest  chamber,  her  exquisite  figure 
mocked  by  the  ridiculous  garments  of  old  Suzel. 
She  did  not  tell  it  as  heartlessly  as  I  have  repeated 
it.  No — for  I  was  more  than  once  glad  that  the 
condition  of  the  fire  gave  me  an  excuse  for  turn- 
ing my  eyes  from  her,  and  more  than  once  she 
needed  my  encouraging  words  to  help  her  to  go  on. 
"  *  Mademoiselle,'  I  said,  when  she  had  ended, 
4  your  secret  is  as  safe  as  if  you  had  hidden  it  under 
the  Seine — safer,  for  the  Seine  is  not  always  faith- 
ful to  its  trust.  It  often  betrays  its  refugees.  Be- 
ware of  it.  Your  secret  is  safe  with  me,  because 
in  my  heart  and  in  my  conscience  I  exonerate  you. 
Others  might  not;  I  do,  entirely.  Besides  our 
two  selves  there  is  only  this  Madame  Clifton  who 
could  connect  you  with  the  regrettable  accident 
which  cost  Judge  Chartier  his  life.  She  is  even 
more  trustworthy  than  I,  for  she  would  not  dare 
let  it  be  suspected  that  she  knows  anything  of  that 
event.  You  can  return  to  your  uncle's  house  in 
perfect  security.' 

99 


ioo  Marcel    Levignet 

"  '  No — no — I  cannot ! '  she  interrupted  pit- 
eously.  '  I  have  left  a  letter  telling  him  that  I 
was  going  to  the  river — and  why.' 

"  '  But  you  can  justify  yourself  to  him  I  ' 

"  *  No !  When  he  has  read  that  letter,  I  shall 
not  have  the  courage  to  face  him.' 

"  *  You  wrote  the  letter  after  you  had  retired  to 
your  room  for  the  night  ?  ' 

"  *  Yes  I  I  went  early.  All  the  guests  had  not 
yet  gone.  That  is  how  I  managed  to  leave  the 
house  without  attracting  the  attention  of  the 
concierge.' 

"  I  looked  at  my  watch.  It  was  five  o'clock  in 
the  morning. 

"  '  Where  did  you  leave  the  letter?  ' 

"  '  On  my  dressing-table.' 

"  'What  is  the  name  of  your  concierge?' 

"  '  Borel— M.  Borel.' 

"  *  Gaspard  Borel,  possibly?  ' 

"  *  I  am  not  sure.' 

"  '  Formerly  a  bank  messenger? ' 

"  '  I  do  not  know.' 

"  *  Humph  1  It  may  be.  How  long  since  you 
have  seen  Madame  Clifton?' 

"  '  Oh,  monsieur! ' 

"  *  Pardon  me.  Not  since  you  returned  to 
Paris?' 

"  '  No,  monsieur  I ' 

" 4  Very     well.'     I     rose.     '  It     is     necessary, 


Marcel   Levignet  101 

Mademoiselle,  that  you  sleep.  I  shall  send  Suzel 
to  you.  Oblige  me  by  being  ruled  by  her.  In  the 
afternoon  I  shall  see  you  again.  In  the  meantime, 
courage.  Dismiss  your  fears.  Be  at  peace.  I 
assure  you  that  everything  will  be  well.' 

"  I  stroked  her  head  encouragingly,  and  she  re- 
warded me  with  the  ghost  of  a  grateful  but 
troubled  smile.  I  was  about  to  restore  her  ring 
to  her,  but  something  in  the  smile  made  me  uneasy, 
and  I  put  the  ring  in  my  pocket  and  took  my  leave 
of  her.  My  last  view  of  her  was  the  picture  I 
carried  in  my  mind  for  years.  Pity  is  the  heart's 
photographer  par  excellence. 

"  Suzel  was  dozing  in  the  lower  hall,  but  my 
footsteps  on  the  stairs,  light  as  they  were,  aroused 
her.  Suzel  is  a  sort  of  cat.  I  gave  her  instruc- 
tions and  sent  her  to  'Toinette.  I  hurried  into  my 
room  and  in  an  incredibly  short  time  had  dressed 
for  the  street  and  left  the  house. 

14  There  was  the  faint,  uncertain  grey  of  the  false 
dawn,  and  the  market-women  were  beginning  to 
trundle  along  with  their  barrows  of  garden  prod- 
uce. But  there  was  not  a  cab  in  sight.  I  had 
walked  half  the  distance  to  General  de  Fran- 
cault's  house  before  I  came  upon  a  cab,  with  the 
coachman  sleeping  inside.  I  shook  him  up  and 
engaged  him  by  the  hour.  We  drove  to  the  Gen- 
eral's. I  had  defined  my  plan  of  action.  Arrived 
at  the  number,  I  rang  the  bell.  After  I  had  re- 


IO2 

peated  the  performance  several  times,  the  great 
door  was  opened  a  few  inches  and  the  concierge 
demanded  to  know  what  was  wanted. 

"'Are  you  M.  Borel?' 

"  '  Yes.     What  does  it  matter?  ' 

"  *  Gaspard  Borel,  formerly  bank  messenger?  * 

"  *  If  I  am,  what  is  that  to  you?  I  am  mes- 
senger no  longer.' 

"  He  offered  to  close  the  door,  but  I  prevented 
him. 

"  '  I  am  M.  Levignet,  formerly  of  the  prefec- 
ture.' 

"  The  chain  rattled  and  the  door  was  opened  to 
me.  So  much  for  having  cleared  an  honest  old 
fellow  from  the  consequences  of  a  police  stupidity 
that  had  threatened  him  with  a  term  of  penal 
servitude.  He  was  at  my  service  for  any  respect- 
able enterprise.  I  stated  my  pre-arranged  case. 

"  '  Last  evening,  M.  Borel,  I  had  the  good  luck 
to  return  to  Mademoiselle  Beaudais  a  valuable  ring 
that  had  been  stolen  from  her.  The  company  in 
the  salon  had  fatigued  her,  and  she  made  the  ring 
an  excuse  for  retiring  to  her  room  for  a  little  while. 
As  she  was  going  up  the  stairs,  a  servant  handed 
her  a  note.  It  was  from  Madame  Clifton,  who  is 
ill,  M.  Borel.  Mademoiselle  changed  her  dress 
and  slipped  out  to  pay  a  benevolent  visit  to  her 
friend.  As  she  alighted  from  the  cab  at  Madame 
Clifton's  door,  I  chanced  to  be  passing.  Ma- 


Marcel    Levignet  103 

demoiselle  did  me  the  honour  to  recognise  me, 
and  offered  again  to  thank  me  for  the  recovery  of 
the  ring.  Suddenly  she  recollected  that  she  had 
dropped  the  ring  on  to  her  dressing-table  when 
about  to  change  her  dress,  and,  in  her  haste,  for- 
got it.  She  was  much  distressed  and  was  re-enter- 
ing the  cab  to  return  for  it — for,  though  she,  of 
course,  distrusts  none  of  her  uncle's  servants * 

"  '  I  understand,  monsieur,'  M.  Borel  sensibly 
interposed  as  I  hesitated  diplomatically. 

"  '  I  undertook  to  come  in  her  stead  and  request 
your  wife  to  get  the  ring  for  me  that  I  might  de- 
liver it  to  Mademoiselle.  Eh,  well,  M.  Borel,  I 
have  had  affairs — the  matter  slipped  my  mind.  I 
had  arrived  home  when  it  recurred  to  me.  So  I 
come  at  this  untimely  hour — for  should  I  wait  un- 
til the  household  is  stirring ' 

"  *  I  understand,  monsieur,'  the  good  fellow  said 
again,  to  spare  me  the  completion  of  an  equivocal 
sentence. 

"  '  Could  Mme.  Borel  gain  access  to  the  room  of 
Mademoiselle  without  disturbing  anyone  in  the 
house  ?  '  There  would  be  no  difficulty.  Madame 
Borel,  was,  in  fact,  femme  de  menage  and  had  free 
range  of  the  house.  -  Mme.  Borel  was  called. 
She  was  round-faced,  good-humoured,  complaisant. 
She  used  to  dance  at  the  Bal  Bullier  and  liked  a 
touch  of  adventure.  I  suggested,  with  a  familiar 
finger-thrust  among  M.  Borel's  well-covered  ribs, 


104  Marcel    Levignet 

that  it  might  add  piquancy  to  the  quest  if  I  accom- 
panied Madame.  They  both  laughed  appre- 
ciatively and  Madame  bade  me  '  come  along  then  ' ; 
I  followed  her  to  the  third  floor,  and  entered 
'Toinette's  room. 

"  Perhaps,  my  dear  Summerville,  you  have 
never  crossed  the  threshold  into  the  sacred  room 
of  the  woman  whose  charm  has  filled  your  soul 
with  a  mysterious Umph!  Pardon  me. 

"  I  took  the  ring  from  my  pocket  as  I  entered 
the  room,  and  in  pretending  to  search  for  it  among 
the  magnetic  trifles  and  trinkets  of  the  dressing- 
table,  I  easily  secured  possession  of  the  letter  lying 
there,  without  Mme.  Borel  being  any  the  wiser. 
Then,  holding  the  ring  to  view,  I  thanked  her, 
slipped  a  twenty-franc  piece  into  her  hand  and  pro- 
posed that  our  burglarious  enterprise  be  kept  un- 
known to  the  family  and  servants;  to  which  she 
readily  agreed,  but  laughingly  intimated  that  M. 
Borel  also  had  a  tongue  wide  enough  to  hold  a 
yellow  coin. 

"  My  purpose  accomplished,  I  returned  to  my 
cab  and  drove  home. 

"  I  had  not  been  gone  above  an  hour  and  a 
half,  but  it  was  an  hour  and  a  half  too  long.    Suzel 
met  me  at  th'e  door,  her  face  ashen  with  fear. 
*  Mademoiselle  is  gone.' 

"  There  was  a  small  balcony  off  the  room  into 
which  Suzel  had  led  'Toinette  to  sleep.  Below 


Marcel   Levignet  105 

the  balcony  a  few  feet,  is  the  flat  roof  of  a  low 
building  that  had  been  a  carriage  house  in  the  days 
of  the  former  proprietor.  From  the  roof  to  the 
ground  is  a  drop  of  no  more  than  twelve  feet. 
Beyond  is  the  garden.  The  street  wall  of  the  gar- 
den is  fairly  high,  but  'Toinette  proved  that  it  is 
not  insurmountable.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  felt  beaten.  To  be  beaten  is  to  be  humiliated. 
To  be  humiliated  is  oppressive.  One  may  be  par- 
doned for  sinking  into  a  chair  and  hiding  the 
chagrin  in  his  face  with  his  hands.  I  remembered 
how  black  the  river  ran  as  I  saw  it  in  the  grey  dawn 
an  hour  before.  I  remembered  the  troubled  smile 
on  'Toinette's  lips  as  I  took  leave  of  her.  Fool, 
not  to  have  told  her  my  mission ! 

"  Suzel  pulled  me  by  the  sleeve. 

"  '  There  is  a  scrap  of  writing,  monsieur.  Per- 
haps  ' 

"  I  snatched  it  from  her  hand — a  little  folded 
slip  torn  from  a  writing-pad  on  the  bedroom  table. 
Three  lines  only.  'I  go,  monsieur;  but  have  no 
fear.  I  shall  do  no  harm  to  myself.  I  shall  live. 
But  now  that  my  uncle  knows,  I  dare  not  go  back 
to  him.  Let  him  think  that  the  river  has  washed 
away  the  disgrace.  Adieu,  my  benefactor.' 

"  I  never  saw  'Toinette  again,  until  she  came 
into  the  cafe  and  sat  at  the  table  there  to-night !  Do 
you  wonder  that  my  pulses  went  up,  and  that  I 
spoke  too  loud  ?  It  was  only  last  week  that  I  heard 


106  Marcel   Levignet 

of  the  marriage  of  the  Baron  de  Noel  to  a  lady  in 
England,  but  I  was  not  curious.  I  asked  no  ques- 
tions, and  I  do  not  read  my  paper — it  is  trying 
enough  to  write  for  it — so  I  did  not  learn  the  lady's 
name.  It  was  something  more  than  surprising, 
then,  to  see  Toinette  on  his  arm." 

"  You  do  not  think  there  is  any  doubt,"  I  said 
hesitatingly,  "  that  '  Toinette  is  really  the  lady 
whom  the  Baron  married?  " 

Levignet's  cheeks  flushed  and  an  unpleasant  ex- 
pression came  into  his  eyes.  I  felt  that  I  had  made 
a  mistake  in  putting  into  words  my  not  wholly  un- 
reasonable surmise. 

"  Of  course,"  I  hastened  to  add,  "  the  chance  is 
that  you  are  right;  but,  you  will  admit,  the  fact 
that  a  lady  and  gentleman  enter  a  cafe  together 
does  not  necessarily " 

Levignet  interrupted  by  giving  the  floor  a  vigor- 
ous thump  with  the  heavy  walking-stick  he  had  not 
surrendered. 

"  You  challenge  my  friendship,  M.  Summer- 
ville!" 

"  Then,  in  the  name  of  friendship,  pardon  my 
folly,  dear  Levignet !  " 

He  looked  at  me  a  moment,  then  thrust  his  hand 
toward  me. 

"  You  have  seen  the  Baroness  de  Noel,"  he  said 
emphatically. 


Marcel    Levignet  107 

"  And  envied  the  Baron,  my  dear  Levignet,"  I 
answered  submissively. 

We  clasped  hands,  and  a  smile  played  under  the 
arch  of  his  moustache,  a  sunny,  forgiving  smile. 

"  M'sieu' ,  s'vous  'plait." 

It  was  the  waiter,  tendering  the  "  addition." 

Levignet  glanced  up,  and  looked  with  surprise 
about  the  deserted  room.  We  were  the  only 
guests,  and  the  doors  were  closed. 

"  Mon  Dieu!  Si  tard?"  demanded  Levignet 
of  the  waiter. 

"Mais  oui,  m'sieu' !"  the  waiter  answered  with 
a  shrug  anything  but  indulgent.  "  C'est  bien  tard, 
vous  pouves  voir.  On  ferme  a  tine  heure.  Main- 
tenant  il  est " 

"Eh,  bien!     Prenez." 

Levignet  paid  the  bill,  and  we  went  into  the 
street. 


XIII 

I  DO  not  know  how  'Toinette  explained  her 
resurrection  to  General  de  Francault  and  his 
family;  but  I  do  know  that,  as  the  Baroness 
de  Noel,  she  became  one  of  the  celebrities  of  so- 
cial Paris.  The  paragraphers  never  wearied  of 
fashioning  verbal  arabesques  to  which  they  could 
fit  her  name.  She  was  the  leader  of  one  set  and 
the  luminary  of  another;  the  foundress  of  this 
charity,  the  patroness  of  that;  her  box  at  the 
Opera  or  at  the  Comedie  divided  honours  with  the 
stage;  public  fete  or  private  reception  owed  some- 
thing of  its  success  to  her  presence;  no  woman  at 
the  Grand  Prix  was  more  simply  dressed — no  other 
woman  was  so  much  observed.  The  'Toinette  of 
old  was  the  unfolding  rose;  the  Baroness  de  Noel 
was  the  flower  in  perfect  bloom.  And  Levignet 
hovered  here  and  there  and  everywhere  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  its  beauty,  to  breathe  in  the  fragrance 
of  its  perfume. 

I  met  him  once  briskly,  airily  traversing  the 
principal  walk  of  the  Tuileries  Gardens,  humming 
the  tag-end  of  the  latest  gay  song  of  a  popular 
chanteuse.  He  had  just  come  from  dining  with 
'Toinette  and  the  Baron.  He  locked  arms  with 

108 


Marcel    Levignet  109 

me  as  blithely  as  a  schoolboy  headed  for  sport. 
Nothing  would  do  for  it  but  that  we  should  climb 
into  an  open  voiture  and  be  driven  somewhere  away 
from  the  rattle  of  the  pavement,  the  noise  of  the 
city. 

We  took  the  road  to  Versailles,  Levignet  bidding 
the  driver  to  keep  straight  ahead  and  go  on  and  on 
"  to  the  end  of  the  world  if  I  do  not  bid  you 
stop ! "  How  he  talked  and  babbled  and  de- 
claimed! Nothing  of  melancholy  in  his  mood  or 
manner  now.  The  old  sobriquet  had  lost  its  sig- 
nificance. Jacques  had  been  transformed  into 
Touchstone  with  all  his  lightness  and  none  of  his 
satire. 

Of  course  'Toinette  was  his  theme — 'Toinette  in 
all  the  superlatives — 'Toinette  as  the  ideal  of 
women — the  paragon  of  sex.  What  wonder,  since 
on  both  his  cheeks  he  still  felt  the  good-night  kiss 
'Toinette  had  bestowed  on  "  her  benefactor." 

He  ran  over  the  outlines  of  her  life  between 
the  morning  in  which  she  had  fled  from  his  house 
and  the  night,  five  years  later,  when  she  re-appeared 
to  his  view  under  the  lights  of  the  Cafe  Riche. 

She  had  returned  to  Marseilles  and  had  gone  to 
the  little  farm  some  miles  away  where  a  relative 
of  her  mother's  lived  as  a  sort  of  Donna  Perfecta, 
ruling  the  village  clergy  and  the  peasants  under  her 
with  equal  hand.  Madame  Delphine  received  her 
young  cousin  very  gladly,  for  her  mother's  sake, 


1 10  Marcel    Levignet 

Madame  Delphine  and  Madame  Beaudais  having 
been  affectionate  friends  in  the  years  of  their  un- 
married companionship,  and  the  rural  heart  cher- 
ishes friendly  sentiments  even  unto  the  second  and 
third  generations. 

But  there  was  a  militant  element  in  the  piety 
of  Madame  Delphine,  and  she  was  not  tolerant  of 
mere  passivity  in  religion.  It  was  not  enough  for 
her  that  one  believed;  one  must  demonstrate  belief 
in  practice.  Fasting  and  prayer  and  confession 
were,  in  her  opinion,  the  mere  rudimentary  com- 
monplaces of  religious  fidelity,  the  simple  incidents 
of  formal  conduct.  The  essential  thing  was  self- 
crucifixion,  after  the  manner  of  the  saints;  and  to 
her  mind  the  model  of  devotion  was  St.  Francis 
of  Assisi,  whom  she  had  chosen  as  her  patron. 
Therefore,  she  earnestly  counselled  'Toinette  to 
put  away  all  vanities  of  the  flesh;  to  renounce  the 
ease  which  the  inheritance  from  Madame  Beau- 
dais  allowed  her,  and  to  bend  her  mind  zealously 
and  jealously  to  a  life  of  self-denial  and  good 
works. 

For  a  time,  the  course  defined  for  her  by* 
Madame  Delphine  seemed  to  'Toinette  precisely 
the  mental  and  moral  corrective  she  required.  She 
entered,  with  a  kind  of  desperate  enthusiasm,  into 
the  plan  of  renunciation,  and  put  on  serge  literally 
and  spiritually.  She  made  a  virtue  of  domestic 
drudgery,  and  cheerfully  turned  over  her  quarterly 


Marcel    Levignet  in 

revenues  to  the  simple  and  kindly  cure  who  came 
and  went  as  Madame  Delphine  decreed.  'Toin- 
ette's  great  beauty  sorely  troubled  Madame  Del- 
phine. It  reminded  her  always  of  certain  of  the 
temptations  that  had  beset  St.  Francis;  and  she 
feared  the  cure  might  find  it  a  vexation  to  the  seren- 
ity of  his  meditations.  She  recommended  to  'Toin- 
ette  a  peasant  bonnet  that  concealed  the  glory  of 
her  hair  and  hid  the  shining  plane  of  her  fore- 
head. The  effect  was  not  entirely  satisfactory. 
Eyes  and  lips  and  teeth  like  'Toinette's  were  not  to 
be  abashed  by  the  impertinences  of  a  coarse  cotton 
bonnet. 

"  Alas,  child !  You  are  hardly  the  better  for  it. 
Pity  you  are  not  like  Irma  there  I  " 

Irma  was  a  buxom  wench  helping  the  shearers 
with  the  sheep.  She  was  still  young,  and  gossip 
used  to  credit  her  with  tendencies  somewhat  the 
reverse  of  austere ;  but  two  winters  ago  the  pest  had 
surprised  her  in  Marseilles.  When  she  saw  the  re- 
flection of  her  pitted  face  in  the  hand-mirror,  she 
dashed  the  glass  to  the  floor  and  wept,  kneeling 
among  the  fragments.  But,  drying  her  eyes  after 
a  time,  she  raised  her  head  and  laughed,  slapping 
her  hands  against  her  cheeks  till  the  pale  hollows 
glowed.  "  All  right !  I  can  be  good  now.  I  can 
tempt  no  one — and  no  one  will  care  to  tempt  me." 

"  And  Irma  has  been  beyond  reproach  these  two 
years,"  said  Mme.  Delphine,  rehearsing  the  story 


ii2  Marcel    Levignet 

to  'Toinette;  "  but  the  chastisement  of  heaven  was 
necessary  to  her  reformation.  Ah,  child,  it  is  the 
Devil  sends  beauty  into  the  world  for  the  ruin  of 
our  souls.  Pray  the  good  Lord  to  remove  from 
you  the  evil  fruits  of  the  curse  laid  on  you." 

This  charitable  wish  and  the  spectacle  of  the 
sheep-shearing  inspired  Madame  Delphine. 

"  Why  not,  Antoinette,  have  one  of  the  shearers 
cut  that  mass  of  vanity  from  your  head?  Your 
face  would  not  seem  so  vicious  but  for  those  glisten- 
ing heaps  of  black  hair!  Shall  I  bid  Jean  come 
with  his  shears?  " 

"As  you  please,  Cousin  Delphine.  It  matters 
nothing  to  me." 

Jean  was  called,  and  came  with  his  shears,  to 
which  clung  particles  of  wool  from  the  shearing. 

'Toinette  took  off  her  cotton  bonnet,  and  loosed 
the  coils  of  her  hair,  which  slid  down  over  her 
shoulders  and  far  below  her  waist,  enfolding  her 
like  a  mantle. 

"  Cut  that  away,  Jean,"  Madame  Delphine  com- 
manded, as  if  she  were  ordering  the  removal  of  a 
profaning  weed  from  the  bed  in  which  she  grew 
her  votive  lilies,  reared  with  holy  care  to  deck  the 
church  altar  on  Easter  morning. 

Jean  advanced  a  step. 

"  Cut  that  away,  Madame  Delphine?  " 

"  Entirely." 

Jean  put  out  his  hand  and  respectfully  lifted  a 


Marcel    Levignet  113 

quantity  of  the  massy  hair,  letting  it  slide  strand  by 
strand  from  his  fingers,  shaking  his  head. 

"  I  could  almost  as  easily  cut  away  the  white 
crown  of  my  mother's  head,  madame.  I  may 
shear  sheep,  for  their  wool  is  a  blessing  to  man,  of 
which  the  sheep  are  glad  to  be  rid.  But  when  God 
puts  such  a  marvel  as  this  on  a  woman's  head,  it 
is  not  for  Jean  Copan  to  court  damnation  by  shear- 
ing it  away." 

"  Do  as  I  bid  you,"  said  Madame  Delphine,  in 
the  even  manner  of  one  accustomed  to  prompt 
obedience.  "  The  blame  of  it  be  on  my  soul,  not 
on  yours." 

"  Do  as  Madame  commands  you,  Jean.  I  con- 
sent," 'Toinette  said,  smiling  to  reassure  him. 

"  No.  I  have  killed  a  Prussian  and  not  minded 
it;  but  I  have  never  marred  God's  handiwork. 
Look;  our  cure  is  coming  down  the  path.  Let 
him  say." 

"  Hide  your  hair  at  once,  Antoinette !  "  Madame 
Delphine  whispered  in  consternation.  "  Father 
Berthold  is  a  holy  man,  but  I  do  not  know  that  it 
is  the  Lord's  will  to  make  a  saint  of  him." 

'Toinette  went  into  the  house  to  coil  her  scandal- 
ous hair  in  place  under  the  ban  of  the  cotton  bon- 
net, as  Madame  Delphine,  ordering  Jean  to  go 
about  his  business,  prepared  to  receive  the  cure. 


XIV 

?rTT^  DINETTE  found  that  she  had  been 
amused  by  the  petty  incident.  She 
-*•  laughed  over  the  droll  puritanism  of  her 
cousin  and  the  aesthetic  piety  of  Jean.  And  the 
laughter  stirred  dormant  fancies  into  activity.  The 
absurdity  of  the  dull,  narrow  life  to  which  she  had 
committed  herself  began  to  play  with  her  sense  of 
humour.  She  had  had  a  horror  of  the  very  idea 
of  a  prison,  and  the  cloister  had  always  seemed  but 
little  preferable  to  a  prison;  yet  here  she  was, 
voluntarily,  as  she  had  thought  gratefully,  shut  in 
by  surroundings,  constrained  by  conditions  more 
sterilising,  more  obliterating  than  either  the  prison 
or  the  cloister,  so  much  more  barren  than  either 
was  the  church-sustaining  farm  that  skirted  a  ham- 
let of  dead-alive  peasants. 

Her  first  resolution  was  not  to  part  with  her 
hair  even  to  spare  the  susceptibilities  of  the  cure. 
And  if  her  hair  were  something  to  guard,  was  not 
her  life  something  to  foster?  Since  she  consented 
to  live  at  all,  would  it  not  be  well  to  live  with  the 
widest  possible  horizon  ?  She  revolved  the  problem 
in  her  mind  through  the  summer  peace  and  the 
autumnal  mildness,  and  when  the  trees  were  scarlet 
on  the  hillside  and  the  presses  were  crushing  out 
the  juices  of  the  grape,  she  kissed  the  dry  cheek  of 

114 


Marcel    Levignet  115 

Madame  Delphine  and  said  good-bye,  going,  as 
the  good  lady  feared,  to  reap  the  harvest  of  the 
seven  deadly  sins. 

Her  purpose  was  not  quite  so  radical,  however. 
She  had  been  in  correspondence  for  some  weeks 
with  Madame  Charpentier,  the  wife  of  the  French 
Consul  in  London,  a  family  friend  of  the  Beaudais 
before  political  distinction  had  blown  down  from 
Paris  upon  her  husband.  Madame  Charpentier 
was  more  than  willing  to  strengthen  her  social  lev- 
erage in  the  British  capital  by  the  companionship 
of  a  girl  as  young  and  beautiful  as  'Toinette,  and 
was  urgent  in  the  invitation  to  her  dear  young 
friend  to  come  for  a  visit  "  to  continue  as  long  as 
you  find  us  agreeable." 

It  was  in  acceptance  of  this  invitation  that  'Toin- 
ette quitted  her  cousin,  after  giving  to  Jean  Copan 
a  purse  of  gold  pieces,  with  the  recommendation 
that  he  take  counsel  of  Irma  how  to  save  or  spend 
them. 

"  Ten  francs  for  every  hole  in  her  face !  "  Jean 
exclaimed  joyously,  as  he  weighed  the  golden 
hoard  in  his  large  hand.  "  I  would  have  done  it 
for  a  quarter  of  the  money,  ma'mselle.  There  are 
girls  with  better  faces  who  are  worse  than  Irma  to 
come  into  a  Irian's  house ;  that  I  know  well  enough. 
Foul  meat  is  made  good  by  going  through  the  fire. 
It  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  Irma  is  not  Madame 
Copan  before  the  next  church  fete." 


n6  Marcel    Levignet 

'Toinette,  though  assured  by  Madame  Charpen- 
tier  that  London  is  London  only  in  the  late  spring 
and  cool  summer,  entered  gratefully  into  the  con- 
genial distractions  of  the  new  life.  Before  the 
term  of  weeks  to  which  she  had  insistently  limited 
her  visit  had  come  to  an  end,  she  felt  a  keen  inter- 
est in  the  people  who  seemed  to  have  a  kindly  feel- 
ing for  her.  The  English  were  not  as  impossible 
as  she  had  imagined  them  to  be.  They  thawed 
agreeably  under  her  smiles.  British  insularism 
loses  something  of  its  awkward  frigidity  under  the 
spell  of  feminine  charms  like  those  of  Mademoiselle 
Beaudais,  and  'Toinette's  influence  was  not  long 
confined  to  the  consular  sphere.  Some  yearnings 
there  were  for  the  soil  and  sun  of  France,  but  her 
self-imposed  exile  was  not  without  its  compensa- 
tions, and  she  very  readily  compromised  with 
Madame  Charpentier  to  prolong  her  stay  indefi- 
nitely as  a  "  paying  guest,"  inasmuch  as  she  refused 
to  accept  hospitality  on  less  independent  terms. 
Expeditions  into  the  country,  weeks  at  Brighton 
and  other  sea-coast  places,  a  week  here  and  there 
in  quaint  towns  and  hamlets,  gave  'Toinette  new 
and  delightful  impressions  of  " les  anglais"  and 
corrected  some  of  the  faults  of  prejudice.  The 
unaccustomed  conditions,  the  social  activities  helped 
her  to  a  readjustment  of  her  moral  balance  and  she 
began  once  more  to  experience  that  joie  de  vivre 
which  seemed  to  have  abandoned  her. 


IT  was  not  until  a  change  of  ministry  brought 
the  Baron  de  Noel  to  London  as  Naval 
Attache  of  the  French  Embassy,  that  'Toin- 
ette  was  troubled  with  doubt  of  her  wisdom  in 
leaving  the  self-effacing,  routine  dulness  of 
Madame  Delphine's  farm.  The  young  diplomat 
made  her  painfully  self-conscious  through  the 
quickening  of  an  emotion  of  which  she  thought 
her  heart  no  longer  capable.  They  met  at  one  of 
the  Embassy  receptions,  and  it  required  no  great 
intelligence  to  divine  the  spring  of  the  Baron's  at- 
tentions during  the  evening,  nor  to  interpret  his 
motive  in  begging  the  privilege  of  calling  on 
Madame  Charpentier.  The  Baron  became  assidu- 
ous in  his  attentions,  and  'Toinette  shrank  from  the 
consciousness  that  they  became  more  and  more  wel- 
come to  her. 

Madame  Charpentier,  who  was  enchanted  with 
the  prospects  of  a  match  which  she  thought  highly 
advantageous  to  both  contracting  parties,  bubbled 
with  satisfaction  in  her  officious  encouragement  of 
the  intimacy.  'Toinette  grew  morbid  in  the  pro- 
portion of  her  increasing  regard  for  the  Baron. 
She  was  tormented  by  the  persistent  thought  that  it 

117 


us  Marcel   Levignet 

was  her  necessity  to  terminate  a  friendship  that 
must  yield  only  Dead  Sea  fruit  in  the  sequel.  It 
was  not  in  her  nature  to  marry  an  honourable  man 
who  sought  her  in  ignorance  of  what  she  had  been 
and  done;  and  the  idea  of  confessing  herself  to  the 
Baron  was  revolting.  She  could  not  nerve  herself 
to  a  decisive  step,  however,  and,  though  she  man- 
aged to  prevent  the  Baron  making  an  open  avowal 
of  his  sentiments,  she  could  not  deny  herself  the 
bitter  happiness  of  receiving  him  in  the  company  of 
Madame  Charpentier. 

Baron  de  Noel  was  not  a  man  of  inexhaustible 
patience,  and  the  time  came  when  he  determined  to 
know  the  result  of  his  sentimental  diplomacy.  He 
sent  a  carefully  worded  note  from  his  hotel  to  in- 
form Mademoiselle  Beaudais  that  he  should  do 
himself  the  honour  to  call  that  evening  with  the 
purpose  to  have  her  answer  to  a  question  which 
involved  the  happiness  and  well-being  of  his  future, 
personal  and  professional.  'Toinette  was  over- 
whelmed, though  she  had  lived  in  daily  anticipa- 
tion of  the  inevitable  overture.  The  conflict  of  her 
emotions  made  her  powerless  to  decide  promptly 
on  her  course  of  action,  though  she  had  clearly 
arranged  what  to  do  in  a  hundred  deliberate  sur- 
veys of  her  situation.  The  temptation  to  accept  the 
Baron  and  trust  to  fate  for  the  happy  issue  strove 
hard  to  beat  down  her  moral  attitude  and  her  sense 
of  what  was  due  to  the  man.  Battling  with  her- 


Marcel    Levignet  119 

self,  clinging  to  the  passion  of  life  while  attempt- 
ing to  compromise  with  conscience,  she  flung  herself 
down  by  her  bed  and  buried  her  face  in  the  pillow. 

Madame  Charpentier  came  into  the  room  and, 
fearing  that  she  had  intruded  upon  the  prayerful 
devotions  of  her  kneeling  friend,  was  about  to 
retire  discreetly,  when  a  smothered  sob  corrected 
her  impression.  In  an  instant  the  sympathetic  lady 
was  down  on  her  knees,  with  her  arm  consolingly 
about  the  dear  'Toinette. 

What  was  the  matter? 

'Toinette,  without  lifting  her  head  handed  the 
Baron's  note  to  Madame. 

"What!  a  proposal  1  And  you  weep  in  the 
joy  of  it!  I  understand;  though  I  did  not  weep 
when  Adolphe  had  the  good  sense  to  choose  me ! 
I  laughed  in  his  face  when  they  brought  me  in  to 
present  him.  I  advise  you  to  do  the  same.  If  you 
begin  in  tears,  you  are  like  to  go  on  in  tears. 
Never  let  a  man  think  he  has  dominion  over  you. 
They  make  very  good  friends,  but  they  are  abomi- 
nable masters.  Start  as  you  would  continue.  He 
must  think  your  acceptance  a  grace,  a  condescen- 
sion. You  marry  him  not  because  there  are  no 
other  men  that  please  you,  but  because  he  suits  your 
convenience.  Preserve  your  superiority;  that  is 
the  way  to  ensure  his  devotion.  And  he  is  coming 
this  evening;  rise,  my  sweet  'Toinette!  I  must 
embrace  you." 


V 
120  Marcel    Levignet 

"  Yes,  embrace  me,"  said  'Toinette,  rising,  "  that 
our  tears  may  mingle,  for  I  shall  not  marry  him." 

"  Not  marry  him !  "  cried  Madame  Charpentier, 
aghast.  "  Not  marry  so  desirable  a  parti  1  When 
I  know  that  you  love  him  to  distraction!  .What 
nonsense  is  this?  " 

"  I  cannot  marry  him." 

"Why?" 

"  I  shall  never  marry  anyone." 

"  Ah !  I  know  what  that  means.  You  will  be 
a  Baroness  before  the  year  ends.  You  are 
coquette,  my  dear.  I  see  you  know  how  to  man- 
age. It  is  well  to  keep  them  on  tenterhooks. 
It  destroys  their  absurd  self-confidence.  An  ex- 
cellent precaution.  Yes;  we  shall  put  him  off  to- 
night; to-morrow  he  will  be  the  more  ardent." 

"  I  shall  see  him  to-night  for  the  last  time.  I 
shall  quit  London  to-morrow." 

"As  if  he  would  not  follow  you !  Why,  he  is 
mad  for  you.  He  will  have  you  whether  you  will 
or  no.  Where  will  you  go  ?  " 

"  Where  he  cannot  find  me." 

"  How  ridiculous !  As  if  it  were  possible  to 
hide  a  face  like  yours  from  the  eyes  of  a  man  in 
love  with  it.  He  would  find  you  in  Tophet." 

"  He  will  not  seek  me." 

"Not  seek  you  I     What  can  prevent  hirn?" 

"  What  I  have  to  tell  him." 

"What  is  that?" 


Marcel    Levignet  121 

"  I  cannot  tell  you." 

"Another  man?" 

"No.    I  love  de  Noel." 

Madame  Charpentier,  throwing  off  her  momen- 
tary apprehension,  laughed  merrily. 

"  You  will,  perhaps,  tell  him  that?  " 

"Yes;  I  shall  tell  him  that." 

"  And  after  that  he  will  fling  out  of  the  room  in 
a  rage  and  swear  a  great  oath  never  to  see  you 
again !  " 

Madame  Charpentier  laughed  afresh  over  her 
fancy,  and  pulled  at  'Toinette's  ear,  styling  her 
"  my  little  cabbage,"  and  like  oddities  of  French 
endearment,  and,  taking  no  further  account  of  the 
mood  she  misunderstood,  bustled  out  of  the  room 
to  order  in  flowers  for  the  evening. 


XVI 

THE  Baron  arrived  promptly  at  the  ap- 
pointed time,  and  had  a  half-hour  of 
cheerfully  preparatory  conversation  with 
Madame  Charpentier  before  'Toinette  came  in. 

"  I  do  not  say  that  'Toinette  will  have  you," 
Madame  Charpentier  had  declared,  with  an  arch 
glance  meant  to  contradict  her  words.  "  But  as 
she  has  neither  parents  nor  near  relatives  to  stand 
between  you,  you  are  not  fit  for  the  career  you 
have  mapped  out  for  yourself  if  you  do  not  per- 
suade her  to  your  way  of  thinking." 

'Toinette  was  long  in  coming,  and  when  she  en- 
tered the  room  there  was  an  expression  in  her  pale 
face  that  troubled  the  Baron. 

"  You  are  prepared  for  my  visit,  Mademoi- 
selle?" he  said  half  enquiringly,  after  greeting 
her. 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  I  am  prepared  to  give  you  my 
answer,  if " — looking  significantly  at  Madame 
Charpentier — "  if  I  may  speak  with  you  alone." 

"  It  isn't  proper,"  said  Madame  Charpentier, 
smilingly,  as  she  moved  toward  the  door.  "  It 
violates  all  the  conventions — but  as  we  are  in  Eng- 
land I  suppose  it  does  not  matter;  everything  is  so 

122 


Marcel    Levignet  123 

original  here.  I  hope,  however,  that  you  will  not 
forget  me  altogether.  You  will  call  me  in  again, 
will  you  not?  " 

She  went  out  good-humouredly,  taking  the 
affirmation  for  granted. 

'Toinette  allowed  herself  no  time  for  faltering. 
She  had  nerved  herself  for  an  ordeal,  and  she  has- 
tened to  enter  upon  it.  She  took  the  chair  the 
Baron  moved  into  place  for  her  and,  sitting  with 
her  hands  clasped,  as  if  she  drew  strength  from 
their  tight  pressure,  she  began  abruptly  and  hurried 
on  unmindful  of  the  Baron's  interruptions. 

"  You  wish  me  to  be  your  wife.  I  cannot.  It 
is  not  because  I  do  not  love  you,  for  I  do.  I  love 
you  with  all  my  soul.  If  I  were  the  woman  you 
think  I  am,  I  should  be  proud  of  the  honour,  grate- 
ful for  the  happiness  of  putting  my  hand  in  yours 
and  giving  myself  to  you  utterly.  But  if  you  were 
to  clasp  my  hand  in  that  way,  you  would  feel  the 
burn  of  the  scar  in  my  palm.  Look.  Does  it  tell 
you  anything.  Does  it  tell  you  that  it  is  a  brand 
of  Cain?  Can  you  read  in  it  the  story  of  an 
assassin?  " 

•  De  Noel  recoiled  a  little  and  stared  at  her  dum- 
foundedly.  She  drew  back  her  hand  and  clenched 
it  with  the  other,  and  went  on  with  her  confession. 
She  plunged  into  the  history  of  the  liaison  with 
"  M.  Martin,"  speaking  more  impetuously,  more 
feverishly  as  she  progressed,  fearing  that  her  pur- 


124  Marcel    Levignet 

pose  might  give  way  before  she  should  come  to  the 
final  horror  that  was  to  close  this  man's  heart 
against  her,  quite  emptied  of  its  love.  She  made 
no  excuses  for  herself;  she  offered  no  extenuating 
plea,  but  recounted  the  incidents  and  circumstances 
with  the  desperate  frankness  of  one  already  hope- 
lessly condemned.  Sometimes  emotion  got  the  bet- 
ter of  her  in  spite  of  herself,  but  she  only  faltered. 
There  were  no  tears,  no  breakdown. 

De  Noel  listened  eagerly,  silently.  The  expres- 
sion of  dismay  which  her  first  words  produced  wore 
away  as  the  story  unfolded,  and  the  flush  of  sup- 
pressed excitement  came  into  his  cheeks  and 
sparkled  in  his  eyes  as  she  told  of  the  pretended 
marriage,  the  clandestine  life  in  Paris,  the  altera- 
tion in  "  M.  Martin,"  the  awakening  doubts  and 
anxieties  in  her  own  mind.  And  when  she  came 
to  the  evening  in  which  she  made  the  discovery  that 
"  M.  Martin  "  was,  in  truth,  Judge  Chartier,  and 
repeated  the  cynical  speech  with  which  Chartier  had 
mocked  her  shame  and  humiliation,  de  Noel  struck 
the  arm  of  his  chair  a  violent  blow  as  he  rose  to  his 
feet,  exclaiming  vehemently : 

1  You  should  have  killed  him  1  You  should 
have  killed  the  scoundrel !  " 

"  Would  to  God  I  had  not !  "  moaned  'Toinette. 
"  I  had  no  thought  of  doing  it !  It  happened !  It 
was  not  in  my  mind,  the  good  God  knows!  But 
he  came  toward  me.  He  caught  me  in  his  arms  and 


Marcel  Levignet  125 

crushed  me  against  him.  The  terror  of  it  filled  me. 
I  thought  I  was  putting  out  my  hands  to  repel  him, 
to  thrust  him  from  me!  I  do  not  know  how  it 
came  about,  but  presently  I  saw  him  lying  at  my 
feet,  so  still  that  I  forgot  myself  in  a  great  fear, 
and  fell  upon  my  knees  to  rouse  him  to  life  again. 
It  is  all  clear  to  me  now,  but  then  it  was  as  if  my 
mind  had  gone  from  me.  I  only  knew  that  I  had 
killed  him,  and  the  dread  of  it  took  hold  of  me, 
and  I  fled." 

"But  you  are  free  from  it  now!"  interrupted 
de  Noel.  "  All  the  infamy  of  it  is  buried  in  the 
grave  with  him.  No  danger  threatens  you  now 
from  which  I  will  not  defend  you.  Give  me  that 
right.  You  are  blameless,  a  martyr  in  my  eyes. 
Be  my  wife,  my  honoured  wife,  and  I  will  guard 
you.  If  I  loved  you  before,  I  reverence  you  now. 
You  shall  be  my  wife!  " 

"  No,"  said  Toinette.  "  You  pity  me.  You 
are  a  man  above  all  others,  and  it  is  your  chivalry, 
your  compassion,  that  speaks.  There  would  come 
a  time  when  your  reason  would  speak,  and 
then " 

"  It  is  my  reason  speaks  now,  'Toinette — my 
reason  and  my  heart  in  one.  I  know  myself — I 
know  you.  I  love  you.  We  are  two  against  all 
the  world.  The  secret  which  we  will  guard  to- 
gether shall  be  a  holy  bond  between  us.  I  share 
it  with  you.  It  magnifies  your  worth  in  my  eyes. 


126  Marcel    Levignet 

It  makes  you  sacred  in  my  esteem.  Put  your  hand 
in  mine.  I  choose  you  from  among  other  women. 
My  life  shall  be  one  of  devotion  to  you.  We  will 
put  the  past  out  of  our  remembrance.  It  shall 
be  a  thing  utterly  forgotten;  even  the  ghost  of  it 
shall  not  trouble  us,  for  there  is  no  one  can  turn 
the  shadow  of  it  upon  our  lives." 

"  Yes ;  there  are  two  besides  you  who  know  my 
story."  And  she  told  him  of  Levignet  and 
Madame  Clifton. 

"  This  M.  Levignet  is  your  friend,  and  the 
woman  dare  not  be  your  enemy.  Come.  I  claim 
the  right  to  stand  beside  you — I  beg  my  happiness 
at  your  hands.  Be  generous  to  me.  Consider. 
If  nothing  is  to  trouble  the  serenity  of  your  life, 
why  should  not  the  man  you  confess  to  loving 
share  that  peace  and  tranquillity  with  you?  If 
there  are  perils  in  your  way,  who  may  better  shield 
you  from  them  or  confront  them  with  you  than  the 
man  who  loves  and  honours  you?  Come  what 
may,  you  are  part  and  parcel  of  my  life,  or  life  is 
nothing  to  me.  If  you  do  not  wish  to  wrong  us 
both,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  sacrifice  the  possibilities 
open  to  us  both,  be  my  wife.  I  hold  out  my  hand 
to  you  to  help  you  and  be  helped ;  trust  your  hand 
to  its  clasp.  I  love  you.  I  love  you." 

'Toinette,  unprepared  for  this  result  of  her  con- 
fession, had  given  way  to  feeling,  and  the  tears 
were  falling  between  the  fingers  of  her  hands  as  she 


Marcel    Levignet  127 

leaned  forward  hiding  her  face  in  them.  De  Noel 
raised  her  head  and  took  her  hands  in  his,  lifting 
them  to  his  lips  and  kissing  them.  She  made  no 
resistance,  and  he  seemed  even  to  feel  an  answering 
pressure  as  he  held  her  hands  tremulous  in  his 
own. 

"  Let  love  lead  us,  'Toinette.     Consent." 

"  I  dare  not,  for  your  sake.  It  would  be  the 
saddest  of  mistakes." 

"  It  would  be  the  wisest  thing  possible.  It 
would  give  purpose  to  both  our  lives." 

"  You  are  tempting  me  to  your  ruin." 

"  I  am  persuading  you  to  befriend  me." 

"  If  I  should  believe  you  and  some  time  in  a  mad 
moment,  this  cry  which  I  always  hear  in  my  soul, 
should  rush  to  my  lips  and  I  should  obey  the  im- 
pulse to  run  to  the  magistracy  and  call  out  to  them 
*  Judge  Chartier  did  not  die  as  you  think  I  I  am 
his  assassin !  It  was  I  who  killed  him  1  Take  me  1 
Do  to  me  what  you  will '  ?  " 

"  I  would  be  by  your  side." 

'  To  suffer  shame  with  me.  To  be  dishon- 
oured! To  be  dragged  to  prison  for  hiding  my 
crime  1  " 

"No;  to  vindicate  you  before  the  law  and  the 
world ;  to  shelter  you  in  my  arms ;  to  bear  you  home 
again,  exonerated." 

u  You  think  that  now,  because  you  are  here  with 
me  and  you  pity  me.  But  when  you  have  left  me; 


128  Marcel   Levignet 

when  you  have  thought  calmly,  you  will  know  that 
I  am  right — that  it  is  impossible." 

"  Try  me." 

"  No ;  for  you  are  a  man  to  hold  to  your  word 
against  your  convictions.  You  would  keep  faith 
to  your  own  sacrifice." 

"  Oh,  you  shall  not  cheat  yourself  and  me  with 
such  reasoning.  We  are  not  children.  You  have 
drunk  wisdom  from  bitterness ;  I  have  not  travelled 
blindfold  through  the  world.  We  know  our  own 
minds.  Let  us  shape  our  lives  by  the  knowledge 
that  is  in  us,  without  concern  for  the  world  about 
/  us — the  world  that  is  only  a  mockery  and  an  illu- 
sion if  love  be  counted  out.  Trust  me.  I  do  not 
love  you  for  to-day  and  to-morrow;  I  have  taken 
you  into  my  heart  forever.  You  are  mine;  I  will 
have  you." 

She  had  risen,  and  was  going  toward  the  door, 
afraid  of  his  persuasion  and  murmuring  her  fears, 
but  he  put  his  arm  about  her,  detaining  her. 

"  I  will  not  let  you  go,"  he  insisted;  and  when 
she  tried,  but  in  a  half  submissive  way,  to  release 
herself,  he  bent  his  head  and  kissed  her  on  the  lips. 
It  was  an  act  of  subjugation.  She  yielded  herself, 
and  clasped  her  arms  about  his  neck,  sighing  a  re- 
proach that  he  took  from  her  the  strength  of  right- 
doing. 

But  the  surrender  was  not  unconditional.  She 
held  to  the  determination  that  he  should  consider 


Marcel    Levignet  129 

the  matter  free  from  the  influence  of  her  presence. 
She  would  go  away.  He  should  not  see  her  until 
time  enough  had  passed  to  allow  of  his  calm  judg- 
ment of  all  the  possible  consequences  of  their  union. 
He  should  not  bind  himself  to  her  under  the  con- 
trol of  an  infatuation  that  might  embitter  his  life 
with  shameful  regrets.  -She  was  firm  against  his 
protestations.  She  would  have  her  way,  for  his 
sake;  and,  unable  to  change  her  resolution,  he  un- 
willingly acquiesced  in  her  plan. 

She  was  to  go  away  from  him  for  a  year,  during 
which  time  there  was  to  be  no  communication  be- 
tween them,  and  he  should  not  know  where  she  had 
gone.  At  the  year's  end  she  would  write  to  him, 
but  only  to  send  her  address.  If  he  came  for  her, 
she  would  be  his  wife.  If  he  did  not  come,  she 
would  know  that  he  had  made  the  wiser  decision. 

"  I  have  made  the  wise  decision  already,"  said 
de  Noel.  "  One  year  or  ten  will  not  change  my 
mind.  I  agree  to  what  you  propose  only  because 
you  will  have  it  so.  For  myself,  I  am  sacrificing 
to  a  vain  scruple  a  year  of  happiness  that  I  shall 
always  regret." 


XVII 

'rnp^OINETTE  went  back  to  the  mental 
aridness  of  Madame  Delphine's  little 
-»-  domain.  She  went  courageously,  in  the 
belief  that  she  was  shutting  herself  in  forever  from 
the  great  world;  that  her  life  thenceforth  was  to 
be  one  of  adaptation  to  the  lean  piety  of  shrivelled 
minds  that  imagined  they  did  God's  will  in  closing 
their  eyes  to  the  sweetness  and  loveliness  of  His 
creation.  She  schooled  herself  to  meet  what  she 
thought  to  be  the  inevitable  outcome  of  this 
probation. 

With  the  inconsistency  of  the  emotion  that  hun- 
gers for  what  it  does  not  hope  to  receive,  she  con- 
vinced herself  that  de  Noel's  consent  to  the  separa- 
tion upon  which  she  had  insisted  was  prophetic  of 
his  final  decision.  Had  he  indeed  loved  her,  she 
argued  piteously  fearful,  he  would  not  have  let  her 
go  under  such  hard  conditions!  How  could  his 
suddenly  conceived  passion  for  her  endure  through 
a  year's  silent  impoverishment?  Hers  was  a 
woman's  love,  the  very  sum  and  essence  of  her  life ; 
his  love  was  but  the  temporary  pause  of  a  man's 
wayward  fancy.  She  would  remember  and  hunger 
on  unsatisfied  till  the  stars  were  old  and  dim  in  the 
heavens.  He  would  dream  idly  of  a  phantasm 
and  wake  to  a  new  reality.  It  was  the  way  of  men. 

130 


Marcel   Levignet  131 

Knowing  the  fashion  of  life,  one  could  but  shape 
one's  self  to  the  pattern.  When  the  shell  is  empty 
on  the  sea-shore,  it  may  only  echo  the  murmur  of 
the  waves  that  toss  or  cradle  it,  or  come  to  rest 
under  the  gathering  sands  that  choke  its  emptiness 
and  hush  its  murmurings.  That  was  to  be  her 
fate; — only,  the  sands  beneath  which  Madame 
Delphine,  and  the  fatuous  good  cure,  and  Jean 
with  his  wife  Irma,  and  now  'Toinette  herself, 
were  being  stifled  were  the  dry  drifts  blown  from 
the  hollows  of  a  sucked-up  and  vanished  sea. 

Women  are  fantastic  logicians;  otherwise  it 
would  be  incomprehensible  that  'Toinette,  eating 
her  heart  out  with  longing,  still  faltered  and  bar- 
gained with  de  Noel  when  he  came  post  haste 
down  to  her  at  the  year's  end  and  demanded  the 
fulfilment  of  her  promise.  She  revoked  her  prom- 
ise on  the  feminine  ground  that  she  had  not  be- 
lieved that  he  would  ever  call  upon  her  to  redeem 
it!  Her  arguments  in  support  of  her  position 
were  none  the  less  determined  for  his  exposition  of 
their  fatuity.  In  the  slow-dragging  months  she 
had  convinced  herself  that  his  love  was  the  fever 
of  an  hour.  She  had  got  so  used,  she  said,  to  the 
idea  that  his  better  judgment  would  close  his  heart 
against  her,  that  his  coming  had  found  her  un- 
ready! She  had  gone  over  the  ground  so  many 
times  to  the  one  conclusion  that  it  seemed  to  her 
now  as  if  his  coming  were  only  an  honourably  en- 


Marcel    Levignet 

forced  obedience  to  her  summons!  She  had  sent 
for  him  I  He  had  come !  Well,  the  duty  of  each 
to  the  other  was  done.  He  knew  now  where  she 
made  her  home.  He  must  go  from  her  for  another 
six  months  or  year,  and  again  there  must  be  silence 
between  them.  She  would  not  send  for  him  the 
second  time.  If  he  came,  it  would  be  voluntarily 
and  then  she  could  believe  that  mind  and  heart 
sanctioned  his  coming!  He  pleaded  in  vain  that 
she  would  hold  by  the  original  compact.  She  was 
afraid  of  him — of  herself.  She  dared  not  yield  to 
him.  If  he  could  not  wait  yet  another  term  it  was 
better  for  her  now  to  say  good-bye !  But  de  Noel 
had  in  him  the  stuff  of  a  Jacob.  Six  months  or 
seven  years  and  again  seven  years  he  would  have 
waited  for  the  Rachael  on  whom  he  had  set  his  af- 
fection. He  entered  into  the  second  arrangement  as 
he  had  entered  into  the  first,  certainly  not  cheer- 
fully, and  decidedly  not  without  objection  to  the 
futile  waste  of  time,  but  with  indulgence.  After 
]  all,  fasting  is  the  best  appetiser,  and  hope  deferred 
,  is  the  multiplication  of  love. 

De  Noel  needed  no  one  to  remind  him  when  the 
six  months  were  up.  He  marked  the  procession 
of  the  days  by  his  pulse  beats;  and  no  doubt  'Toin- 
ette  had  an  equally  delicate  chronograph,  for,  as 
de  Noel  climbed  the  winding  hill-path  that  made  a 
short  cut  through  the  wood  to  Madame  Delphine's 
farmhouse,  'Toinette,  her  hair  free  of  the  cotton 


Marcel    Levignet  133 

bonnet,  and,  garnished  with  a  rose,  came  down  the 
slope  to  meet  him.  At  this  point  in  his  narrative 
Levignet  stopped  short  with  a  sigh,  snapped  his 
fingers  and  addressed  the  cabby. 

"  Turn  your  beast  about,  and  drive  back.  I  had 
forgotten,  my  dear  Summerville,  that  I  promised 
a  leaderette  on  to-day's  debate.  If  you  don't  mind 
my  smoking  my  cigar  in  silence,  I  will  have  my 
article  all  but  written  before  we  reach  my  office.  I 
can  dictate  it  in  five  minutes,  and  we  will  have  a 
look  in  at  Maxime's,  if  you  like." 

"  Willingly.  But  before  you  immerse  yourself 
in  a  political  editorial,  suppose  you  give  me  the 
finishing  touch  to  the  story." 

"  Finishing  touch,  Summerville !  Good  heavens ! 
What  kind  of  an  imagination  have  you?  Have  I 
not  told  you  that  I  dined  this  evening  with  the 
Baron  and  Baroness  de  Noel?  Leave  me  in  peace 
to  compose  my  leaderette." 

He  settled  himself  into  the  corner  of  the  victoria 
and  lapsed  into  a  sort  of  reverie.  It  was  hardly 
of  the  editorial  character,  however,  unless  editor- 
ials are  fashioned  to  the  humming  of  Offenbachian 
numbers.  And  as  we  entered  the  Place  de  la 
Concorde,  he  suddenly  roused,  and  said  with  can- 
did good-humour: 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  a  word  for  the  paper! 
To  the  devil  with  it!  I  am  not  in  the  writing 
mood  to-night.  Cabby,  drive  to  Maxime's." 


XVIII 

SOME  days  later  I  sailed  for  America,  and 
it  was  during  the  two  years  of  my  absence 
that  the  Baroness  de  Noel  achieved  in  Paris 
the  social  distinction  of  which  I  have  spoken. 
When  I  returned  to  the  French  capital — in  the  first 
week  of  that  tragically  memorable  season  which 
bade  fair  to  be  one  of  exceptional  gaiety  and  bril- 
liance— 'Toinette  was  so  much  a  celebrity  that  her 
photographs  were  scarcely  less  numerous  in  the 
shop  windows  than  those  of  the  premiere  danseuse 
of  the  opera.  It  is  a  fact  not  generally  known  or 
credited,  perhaps,  that  the  French  surpass  almost 
any  other  nation  in  the  esteem  of  virtue.  The  ap- 
preciation is,  however,  rather  aesthetic  than  moral. 
There  is  a  national,  one  might  say  racial,  passion 
with  the  French  for  excellence,  and  it  matters  not 
a  great  deal  to  them  what  may  be  the  particular 
character  of  the  surpassing  achievement.  As  they 
flatter  themselves  with  confidence  in  the  superiority 
of  their  cooks,  painters,  sculptors,  and  litterateurs, 
their  milliners,  dressmakers,  actresses  and  demi- 
mondaines,  their  masters  of  savoir  faire,  savoir 
v'wre,  and  the  numerous  savoirs  of  the  civilised 
man,  so  they  pride  themselves  on  the  pre-eminence 
of  their  examples  of  feminine  virtue.  They 

134 


Marcel    Levignet  135 

are  the  only  people  who  offer  prizes  for  vir- 
tue as  they  offer  prizes  for  works  of  art,  original 
inventions,  feats  of  valour,  deeds  of  heroism  or 
humanity,  or  the  output  of  genius.  If  a  beautiful ' 
woman — availing  herself  of  the  immunity  from 
orthodox  penalties  which  society  accords  to  youth 
and  beauty  in  union — chooses  to  join  in  the  Paphian 
refinements  of  the  prodigal  world,  they  smilingly 
acquiesce,  acknowledge  the  rights  of  the  individual, 
and  applaud  her  according  to  the  measure  of  her 
triumph.  But  if  it  comes  into  the  head  of  a  beau- 
tiful woman,  with  complementary  wit  and  fortune, 
to  shine  among  the  exemplars  of  blameless  conduct, 
no  people  on  the  earth  are  so  ready  to  pay  her 
grateful  homage  as  the  nation  too  generally  mis- 
judged by  its  frivolity. 

'Toinette  threw  all  her  influence,  personal  and 
social,  into  the  moral  side  of  the  balances;  un- 
ostentatiously, without  prudery  or  Pharisaism, 
partly  led  by  that  instinctive  natural  selection  by 
which  bee  and  butterfly  alike  dip  into  the  honey 
cups  of  wholesome  flowers  and  wing  past  the  gaudy 
blooms  that  distil  poison — partly  guided  by  the 
clear  intelligence  which  measures  accurately  the 
short-lived  ecstasy  of  folly.  The  Cyprian,  lolling 
in  her  carriage  or  idling  in  the  promenade  of  the 
avenue  of  the  Acacias,  gazed  upon  'Toinette,  as  she 
passed,  with  that  peculiar  smile  of  contempt  which 
belies  the  shadow  in  the  cheerless  eyes  where  envy 


136  Marcel    I5evignet 

broods.  The  grande  dame,  whose  moral  basis  is 
the  pride  bred  of  a  dozen  generations  of  un- 
smirched  womanhood,  smiled  and  bowed  in  serene 
approval  of  this  charming  baroness  who  knew  so 
well  how  to  extract  pleasure  from  life  without  suf- 
fering soil  or  stain  in  the  process.  In  short,  'Toin- 
ette  had  tribute  honourable  to  her  character  from 
all  the  social  antitheses  of  the  most  cosmopolitan 
of  cities. 

Such  is  the  summary  of  the  panegyric  Levignet 
poured  into  my  ears  as  we  sipped  our  aperitives  on 
a  famous  cafe  terrace  in  our  first  reunion.  He 
continued  to  be  a  favoured  guest  at  the  private 
table  of  'Toinette  and  de  Noel,  and  regarded  him- 
self as  an  intimate  of  the  household.  Indeed,  he 
fancied  he  was  a  sort  of  tutelary  genius  to  the 
couple  for  whose  coming  together  he  rightly 
claimed  a  great  deal  of  credit,  and  had  got  into  the 
way  oi  speaking  of  them  as  his  children — "  mes 
enfants."  By  the  testimony  of  his  hair  and  mous- 
tache he  had  years  enough  for  the  office ;  but  love, 
of  a  mysterious  sweetness,  had  reopened  the  spring 
of  youth  in  his  heart  and  the  bubbling  gladness  of 
it  was  in  his  eyes  and  in  his  speech.  His  fifty 
years  were  an  accident.  Under  them  lay  the  care- 
less vigour  and  joyance  of  twenty-five. 

1  You  have  seen  'Toinette — but  you  shall  know 
her,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  shall  arrange  for  it.  I 
will  not  have  you  think  I  am  given  to  extrava- 


Marcel    Levignet  137 

gance.  I  have  my  enthusiasms,  but  I  harness  them 
with  reason.  When  I  was  a  deputy,  they  used  to 
say  that  I  was  the  one  man  in  the  Chamber  who 
could  speak  passionately  without  losing  sight  of 
the  logical  sequences.  When  your  premises  are 
sound  and  your  conclusions  irrefutable,  ardour  in 
the  exposition  is  a  proper  and  desirable  addition. 
It  is  that  which  quickens  receptivity  and  prepares 
the  mind  for  conviction.  When  you  know  'Toin- 
ette  you  will  not  reproach  me  with  excess — you  will 
pity  the  poverty  of  my  vocabulary.  If  you  do  not 
begin  to  write  madrigals  and  lyrics — mon  Dieu! 
I  shall  despise  you.  Ah!  I  see  that  you  are 
thinking  of  something  I  remember  to  have  said  to 
you  once.  It  is  true,  my  friend.  Why  should  I 
deny  it?  That  one  flower  in  my  heart's  garden 
has  expanded  so  wonderfully  that  sometimes  I 
seem  about  to  suffocate  with  the  fragrance  of  it. 
I  need  to  open  the  windows  of  my  soul  once  in  a 
while  to  let  out  a  little  of  its  perfume.  I  should 
go  mad  could  I  not  speak  freely  to  someone.  You 
are  my  safety-valve." 

"  And  does  she  not  suspect  ?  "  I  ventured  to  ask. 

For  answer,  he  struck  a  match  and  extended  his 
arm  to  hold  the  flame  in  a  direct  ray  of  the  full 
sunshine. 

"  Do  you  see  the  blaze  of  the  match  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  very  well,"  I  said,  catching  his  meaning; 
"  but  I  think  it  has  gone  out." 


138  Marcel    Levignet 

He  drew  back  the  match,  and  relighted  his  cigar 
with  it.  He  did  not  offer  to  explain  his  allegory, 
but  I  was  not  too  dull  to  understand.  'Toinette 
was  the  clear  sunshine  in  which  a  thousand  artificial 
lights  might  burn  unseen. 

Levignet  smoked  in  silence  for  a  time.  Pres- 
ently he  touched  my  arm.  "  Look  there,"  he 
said  with  a  cynical  smile.  He  half  pointed  to  one 
in  the  string  of  carriages  on  the  way  to  the  Bois. 
"  Do  you  know  the  lady  in  blue,  with  the  blonde 
beauty  beside  her?" 

"No.     Who  is  it?" 

"  Madame  Clifton.  Is  not  that  face  the  aegis 
of  all  the  virtues  ?  " 

"  An  excellent  counterfeit,  at  any  rate.  You 
have  not  yet  found  occasion  for  your  decisive 
tilt?" 

u  I  am  beginning  to  despair  of  it.  She  is  the 
very  devil  of  artfulness.  1  have  odds  and  ends 
enough  of  string  to  strangle  her,  but  I  cannot  suc- 
ceed in  tying  them  together.  I  have  set  snares  and 
dug  pitfalls  by  the  dozen,  any  one  of  them  a  mas- 
terpiece of  invention  for  entrapping  the  ordinary 
adventuress  of  her  class;  but  my  old  confederate, 
Chance,  has  refused  to  serve  me  thus  far,  and  she 
is  too  clever  for  my  unaided  wits.  An  extraordi- 
nary woman,  I  assure  you.  Most  extraordinary. 
My  admiration  of  her  is  prodigious.  I  would 
rather  conduct  her  before  the  Criminal  tribunal 


Marcel    Levignet  139 

than  be  myself  borne  to  the  filysee  Palace  as  Presi- 
dent of  the  Republic.  But  one  eventuality  is  as 
probable  as  the  other,  I  fear.  And  yet  I  have  an 
absurd  belief  that  I  shall  see  the  tragic  end  of 
Madame  Clifton's  career  in  Paris.  It  is  a  great 
mistake,  however,  to  suppose  that  retribution  is 
always  on  the  alert  to  seize  and  confound  the 
guilty.  Nemesis  is  as  capricious  as  Fortuna.  It 
is  the  feminine  temperament.  The  English 
Shakespeare  says  that  Jove  laughs  at  lovers'  per-; 
juries,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  he  does  not  laugh  at 
most  of  our  notions  of  right  and  wrong.  It  is  all 
the  same,  though. 

"  That  girl  you  saw  with  Madame  Clifton  just 
now  is  Mademoiselle  Dupont,  whose  father  made 
a  fortune  in  leather  and  quadrupled  it  in  the  bank- 
ing business.  The  girl  is  ambitious,  but  has  no 
social  position  to  start  with.  Benevolent  Madame 
Clifton  becomes  her  sponsor  in  baptism  into  the 
cult  of  fashion — an  honour  for  which  Papa  Dupont 
pays  handsomely,  you  may  take  oath.  In  a  girl 
like  Mademoiselle  Dupont — one  of  vulgar  origin 
and  puffed  up  by  the  arrogance  of  riches  (you  saw 
the  silly  pride  in  her  face) — in  a  girl  like  that,  ex- 
tremes meet.  She  desires,  naturally,  to  gratify 
her  pride  while  catering  to  her  ambition;  but,  nat- 
urally, again,  her  ambition  is  greater  than  her 
pride.  If  she  cannot  walk  into  the  charmed  circle 
of  the  hedonists  through  the  great  front  doors,  she 


Marcel    Levignet 

will  be  perfectly  willing  to  steal  in  by  the  way  of 
the  back  stairs.  She  has  her  preference,  presum- 
ably, of  the  right  hand  to  the  left  hand  arrange- 
ment, but  is  prepared  for  the  alternative.  Why 
do  I  think  so?  Because  Madame  Clifton  is  al- 
ready throwing  her  at  the  head  of  a  certain  degen- 
erate marquis,  who  is  too  much  for  even  the 
omnivorous  stomachs  of  your  title-worshipping 
American  parvenus.  But  it  is  not  through  such 
creatures  as  Mademoiselle  Dupont  that  I  shall 
catch  the  madame  napping.  No.  I  shall  rather 
follow  the  clue  of  a  morsel  of  paper  that  fell  from 
her  muff  at  the  funeral  of  my  friend  Ribault." 
"Dr.  Ribault?  He  is  dead,  then?  " 
"  Naturally,  since  we  have  buried  him.  He 
died  ages  ago.  The  winter  after  you  left  Paris. 
You  had  not  heard?  But  he  was  no  longer  a 
celebrity.  When  one  outlives  one's  usefulness,  we 
quickly  forget  that  he  ever  had  value.  Now  me- 
teors and  comets  are  so  thick  in  the  heavens  now-a- 
days  that  we  have  no  eyes  even  for  the  fixed  stars, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  slow-waning  fires.  There 
was  not  much  about  him  in  the  papers,  and  prob- 
ably your  correspondents  ignored  him  entirely. 
Yet  it  was  he,  rather  than  Charcot  and  the  rest  of 
them,  who  discovered  the  therapeutic  value  of 
hypnotism.  I  was  to  dine  with  Ribault  the  even- 
ing he  was  stricken  down — a  sort  of  paralysis  of 
the  heart,  I  believe,  though  I  may  be  wrong. 


Marcel    Levignet  HI 

Thank  heaven,  I  know  little  or  nothing  about  the 
human  anatomy  and  its  ailments.  Whatever  he 
had,  it  was  not  dilatory.  Poor  fellow ;  he  insisted 
that  I  should  be  brought  to  him  when  I  came. 
There  was  a  bevy  of  doctors  about  him  as  I  entered 
the  room,  and  he  motioned  them  away  as  he  beck- 
oned to  me. 

u  *  I  wish  to  speak  with  M.  Levignet  in  private,' 
he  said,  his  voice  hardly  louder  than  a  whisper. 

"  '  Ah,  my  dear  Levignet,'  he  murmured,  with 
a  smile,  as  he  put  out  his  hand  to  me  when  the 
doctors  had  gone.  '  You  are  such  a  gourmand 
that  you  probably  will  not  forgive  me  for  cheating 
you  out  of  a  dinner.  I  would  have  been  glad  to 
postpone  this  little  matter  until  after  the  coffee,  but 
I  really  had  a  prior  engagement  with  the  Gentle- 
man who  has  called  for  me.' 

"  '  My  dear,  dear  Ribault,  is  this  a  time  to  jest ! 
I  am  pained  to  the  heart  to  see  you  so  ill,  old 
friend.' 

"  '  I  understand.  They  have  told  you  that  a 
priest  has  been  sent  for  to  come  with  the  holy  oil. 
It  is  nothing,  Levignet,  nothing.  I  have  made  a 
long  journey,  and  am  not  sorry  to  have  reached 
the  terminus.  It  has  been  pleasant  enough,  as  a 
journey — but  rest  is  pleasant,  too,  my  friend.  I 
have  not  been  a  bad  traveller.  I  am  fairly  free 
from  soil  and  dust.  What  I  have  to  confess  to  the 
priest  is  known  to  you.  I  have  wronged  no  one 


142  Marcel    Levignet 

but  Chartier,  and  I  have  made  atonement  to  him 
by  keeping  his  memory  free  from  the  stain  of  which 
we  know,  i  must  thank  you  for  letting  me  have 
my  way  in  that.  I  know  how  your  professional 
pride  suffered  under  your  agreement  not  to  bring 
the  assassin  to  justice ' 

"  *  There  was  no  assassin,  Ribault,'  I  interrupted 
feelingly.  *  There  was  a  catastrophe,  but  no 
crime.  Heaven  made  innocence  its  own  accidental 
avenger ! ' 

"  '  Ah !     It  is  clear.     You  love  the  woman.' 

"'Yes;  I  love  her.' 

"  *  Then  you  are  ready  to  serve  me,'  he  said,  an 
eager  light  in  his  eyes,  a  renewal  of  vigour  in  his 
tone.  '  I  hesitated  to  ask  the  service,  for  I  feared 
it  might  be  compromising  in  some  way.  But  I 
want  to  see  them,  Levignet,  I  want  to  see  them — 
you  understand — Madame  Chartier,  Mademoi- 
selle Chartier — Charlotte  and  Elise!  Can  you 
bring  them  to  me?  You  are  clever — ingenious — 
could  you  manage  to  bring  them  without  their  be- 
ing compromised,  without  the  shadow  of  danger  to 
their  good  name  ?  Five  minutes  with  them  before 
the  priest  is  let  in  to  shrive  me  would  better  fit  my 
soul  for  Paradise  than  his  absolution  and  unction. 
Will  you  undertake  it?  You  need  not  fear  that  I 
will  die  before  they  come.  Death  is  not  stronger 
than  love  that  waits  expectant.  Go  for  them, 
Levignet.  Charlotte  will  come,  I  know; — maybe 


Marcel    Levignet  143 

she  will  not  think  it  unwise  to  let. — my  daughter 
come,  too.' 

"  There  was  a  world  of  winning  pathos  in  the 
way  he  said  *  my  daughter.' 

"  I  have  not  many  emotions,  my  dear  Summer- 
ville.  But  there  is  something  within  me  which  I 
do  not  recognise  as  myself.  This  something  bade 
me  bend  to  kiss  his  cheeks,  and  a  tear  fell  on  his 
forehead. 

"  'You  shall  see  them,'  I  said,  rising,  '  Au  re- 
voir,  old  friend.' 

"  He  held  out  his  hand  to  me,  his  face  luminous 
with  a  smile  that  chilled  me  prophetically. 

"  *  Not  au  revoir  for  me,  Levignet.  Adieu  I ' 
"Adieu!' 

"  As  I  clasped  his  hand,  he  drew  me  toward 
him,  and  as  I  stooped  he  kissed  my  cheek  as  I  had 
kissed  his. 

"  *  Once  more,  adieu.* 

"'Adieu!' 

"  I  left  him,  his  final  *  adieu  '  coming  to  my  ears 
in  a  whisper  as  I  passed  through  the  door." 


XIX 

THERE  was  but  one  of  the  several  doctors 
waiting  in  the  next  room,  the  others  hav- 
ing gone,  aware  of  their  uselessness.  I 
explained  to  this  doctor  that  the  dying  man  had 
long  ago  been  intrusted  by  the  late  Judge  Char- 
tier  with  a  piece  of  private  information  which  it 
was  now  important  should  be  communicated  to 
Madame  and  Mademoiselle  Chartier,  and  that* I 
was  going  to  fetch  them.  A  simple  lie  is  much 
more  credible  than  a  complex  truth.  The  doctor 
knew  that  Ribault  had  been  the  famfly  physician 
of  the  Chartiers;  he  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course 
that  there  had  been  professional  secrets  which  the 
time  had  come  to  divulge.  I  drove  to  Madame 
Chartier,  who  hardly  waited  to  learn  the  object  of 
my  call  before  summoning  her  daughter;  and  in 
less  than  five  minutes  we  were  in  the  closed  cab 
going  with  all  possible  speed  toward  the  death- 
bed. I  do  not  know  what  passed  between  the 
three  in  the  brief  interval  before  Madame  Char- 
tier  and  her  daughter  reappeared,  weeping,  and 
implored  the  priest,  waiting  in  the  ante-room,  to 
hasten  to  the  bedside;  but,  as  there  was  no  post- 
ponement of  the  wedding  of  Mademoiselle  Char- 

144 


Marcel    Levignet  145 

tier,  already  announced  for  the  ensuing  week,  it 
is  probable  that  she  was  not  told  the  secret  of  her 
parentage.  I  wonder  if  a  conscious  filial  caress 
would  have  been  a  light  to  his  soul  as  it  went  down 
into  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow? 

"  I  have  some  theories  of  my  own  as  to  the  re- 
lations between  the  seen  and  the  unseen,  the  known 
and  the  unknown,  matter  and  thought;  mad 
fancies,  I  dare  say,  but  interesting  guests  which  my 
mind  delights  to  entertain.  If  you  are  willing  to 
be  bored  for  an  hour  or  two  some  day,  I  will  prove 
to  you,  by  a  thoroughly  uncontrovertible  but 
heterodox  syllogism,  that  you  and  I  and  Elohim 
are  one  and  inseparable;  and  that  the  only  reality 
is  Thought.' 

"  Quite  willing,  Levignet,"  I  said,  smiling  at 
him;  "but  what  has  this  highly  metaphysical 
flourish  to  do  with  Dr.  Ribault  and  his  daughter?  " 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered  carelessly,  as  he  dusted 
the  ash  from  his  trousers  and  rose  from  the  table. 
'"  Only,  we  have  made  so  many  fetiches  and  scare- 
crows with  which  to  terrify  ourselves  that  we 
have  lost  all  sense  of  proportions  and  values,  to 
say  nothing  of  absolute  relations.  We  have  made 
Death  the  King  of  Terrors,  and  we  pale  and 
tremble  at  the  very  name  of  him.  We  imagine 
that  he  leads  us  down  into  a  region  of  horror  and 
desolation;  that  he  cheats  us  of  present  joys  and 
threatens  us  with  penalties  for  our  human  frailties; 


146  Marcel    Levignet 

that  this  very  creature  of  our  own  thought  is  the 
master  of  our  Destiny.  We  are  such  asses,  Sum- 
merville !  We  are  such  asses !  "  He  smoked  in 
reflective  silence  a  moment  and  then  resumed  his 
narrative. 

"  When  I  went  into  the  room  with  the  others, 
after  the  priest  had  given  him  passports  to  Elys- 
ium, Ribault  lay  still  and  silent,  his  eyes  closed, 
a  smile  on  his  lips.  I  touched  my  fingers  to  his 
forehead.  It  was  already  cold.  But  the  smile 
fascinated  me.  I  suppose  the  others  saw  in  it  the 
testimony  of  the  soul's  tranquillity,  the  perfect 
peace  of  its  departure.  To  my  fancy  it  was  the  im- 
print of  a  superb  mockery.  It  was  as  if  he  were 
laughing  at  us.  This  thing  we  call  Death  is  the 
grand  farceur  in  the  travesty  of  life  with  which  man 
at  once  transports  and  torments  himself.  We  shall 
all  laugh  when  the  final  curtain  is  rung  down,  and 
go  about  our  serious  business  of  Being.  While  the 
show  is  on,  let  us  cackle  at  the  jests,  applaud  the 
heroics,  shudder  at  the  calamities,  and  weep  over 
the  misadventures  as  becomes  the  patron  of  the 
play  who  pays  for  his  place.  So  go  your  way  to 
your  hotel,  my  friend,  and  put  on  your  evening 
clothes,  that  we  may  dine  together  like  Christians. 
I  shall  join  you  at  seven." 


XX 


INSTEAD  of  coming  at  the  appointed  hour  to 
dine  with  me,  Levignet  sent  a  carte  pneuma- 
tlque  to  excuse  himself,  promising  an  early 
explanation  of  "  one  of  those  caprices  which  I  have 
grown  too  wise  to  disregard."  Though  disap- 
pointed, I  had  no  doubt  that  'Toinette  was  respon- 
sible for  my  having  to  eat  in  solitude — for  I  had 
no  mind  for  other  company  than  Levignet's  with 
which  to  discuss  a  particular  dish  I  had  ordered 
to  excite  his  loquacity.  It  is  a  mistake  to  imagine 
that  wine  is  the  tongue's  supreme  laxative.  A 
well-cooked  novelty  will  often  do  more  than  the 
choicest  vintage  toward  subduing  the  carnal  and 
liberating  the  wit.  I  remember  a  dinner  party  in 
London,  at  which  the  fountain  source  of  the  even- 
ing's jollity  was  the  delicious  succulence  of  an  Amer- 
ican corn  fritter;  and  any  barmecide  who  has  sat 
with  Titmarsh  in  a  snug  corner  of  the  "Cafe  Trois 
Freres  "  knows  the  inspirational  properties  of  a 
choice,  gravy-coddled  beefsteak.  By  the  time  I 
rang  for  the  waiter  to  clear  the  table,  my  temper 
was  of  a  benevolence  to  enfold  the  lean  soul  of  my 
enemy,  and  I  even  contemplated  the  "  promenade  " 
of  the  Casino  as  the  possible  scene  of  a  half-hour's 
amusement , 

147 


148  Marcel    Levignet 

I  went  to  take  my  coffee  on  the  terrace  of  the 
Cafe  de  la  Paix,  the  axis  of  worldly  humanity, 
pretty  sure  of  sighting  in  the  seated  or  passing 
crowd  a  familiar  face — possibly  one  I  had  last  seen 
on  the  other  side  of  the  globe.  I  was  not  pre- 
pared, however,  to  see  Levignet  himself,  accom- 
panied by  a  thin  petit  maitre,  of  lewdly  dissipated 
countenance,  come  sauntering  along  as  if  broken 
engagements  were  the  spring  of  perfect  self-con- 
tent. Having  an  inside  place,  I  stood  up  as  he 
approached,  the  easier  to  attract  his  attention.  I 
spoke  his  name  as  he  came  opposite  me.  He 
turned  his  head  in  my  direction,  favoured  me  with 
a  casual  glance  of  inquiry,  and  passed  on  without 
a  sign  of  recognition.  Thinking  he  might  have 
been  too  preoccupied  to  identify  me,  and  not  caring 
to  make  myself  heard  by  bellowing,  I  put  a  coin 
down  on  the  table,  deferentially  made  my  way  be- 
tween the  sitters,  and  followed  Levignet  and  his 
companion.  They  were  going  in  the  direction  of 
the  Opera,  and  I  overtook  them  only  as  they  were 
turning  into  the  rue  Scribe. 

"  So,  Levignet !  I  have  a  crow  to  pick  with 
you!" 

"  Ah !  it  is  you,  Summerville !  I  have  had  an 
odd  impression  of  you  for  some  moments,  as  if  I 
had  just  seen  you." 

"  So  you  had.  You  gave  me  the  '  haughty 
stare '  as  you  passed  the  Cafe." 


Marcel    Levignet  149 

He  laughed  at  the  touch  of  slang. 

"  That  accounts  for  the  impression.  My  eyes 
took  a  snapshot  of  you  while  my  mind  was  busy 
with  other  matters,  and  my  brain  was  beginning  to 
develop  the  negative.  I  am  inclined  to  think  we 
get  quite  one-half  our  original  thoughts  and  fancies 
in  that  way."  Then,  lowering  his  voice,  he  added, 
"  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  the  Marquis  de  Fonte- 
ville,  the  blackguard  I  spoke  to  you  about  this 
afternoon." 

The  Marquis  had  strolled  on  when  Levignet 
stopped  to  shake  hands  with  me,  and  was  now  a 
few  steps  in  advance.  We  overtook  him,  and 
Levignet  presented  me,  bestowing  upon  me  the 
borrowed  distinction  of  an  American  Croesus. 

The  Marquis  bowed  very  ceremoniously,  put  up 
a  jewelled  hand  to  lift  his  hat,  and  declared  him- 
self enchanted  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  "  M. 
Soo-mair-veel."  I,  in  my  turn,  declared  the  hon- 
our I  felt  it  to  be  to  meet  this  popinjay  residuum 
of  time's  chemical  reduction  of  a  family  celebrated 
in  the  militant  history  of  old  France.  A  direct 
ancestor  of  this  moral  and  intellectual  bankrupt, 
this  ninnyhammer  redolent  of  vicious  refinement, 
was  a  glorious  rival  of  the  great  Conde  in  buttress- 
ing the  throne  of  the  Louis!  I  saw  in  the  lamp- 
light the  cynical  smile  under  Levignet's  moustache, 
as  he  expressed  the  hope  that  the  Marquis  would 
find  me  worthy  of  his  condescension. 


1 50  Marcel    Levignet 

"Well,  monsieur?"  said  the  Marquis,  with  an 
inquiring  look  at  Levignet  that  supplemented  his 
words. 

Levignet  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  looked 
sidewise  at  the  Marquis  as  he  gave  a  twist  of  his 
moustache,  which  I  knew  to  be  a  sign  of  his  uncer- 
tainty. 

"  I  can  answer  for  the  discretion  of  my  friend," 
he  began ;  "  but,  if  you  think  there  could  be  an 
objection " 

"  My  dear  M.  Levignet,"  I  interrupted,  "  you 
cannot  suppose  that  I  would  presume  to " 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,"  said  the  Marquis,  suavely, 
interrupting  in  his  turn,  "  I  have  no  doubt  at  all 
that  M.  Soo-mair-veel  would  be  a  pleasant  and 
welcome  addition  to  the  party,  if  we  may  have  the 
honour  of  his  company." 

"  It  is  most  gracious  of  you  to  say  so,  Marquis ; 
but  it  is  probable  that  you  and  M.  Levignet " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  mannikin,  with  a  defini- 
tive wave  of  the  hand.  "  I  beg  of  you  to  be  one 
of  us  for  the  evening." 

I  bowed  my  acceptance,  well  aware  that  the  in- 
vitation was  thus  freely  extended  to  the  putative 
millionaire  rather  than  to  the  actual  "  M.  Soo- 
mair-veel." 

The  Marquis  turned  to  signal  one  of  the  un- 
numbered landaus  that  wait  in  the  rue  Scribe  for 
extra  hire. 


Marcel    Levignet  151 

While  he  was  so  engaged,  Levignet  whispered 
in  my  ear: 

'"  A  loan  of  ten  thousand  francs  to  the  little 
vaurien  has  secured  me  an  opportunity.  Chance 
befriend  us,  though  I  have  no  idea  what  is  be- 
fore us." 

De  Fonteville  gave  the  coachman  an  address 
outside  the  Porte  St.  Maillot,  beyond  the  Bois,  and 
as  we  drove  briskly  along  he  chatted  in  a  fatuous 
way,  meant  to  be  witty,  I  imagine,  as  he  laughed 
so  cheerily  over  his  levities.  Levignet  encouraged 
him  with  inanities  equal  to  his  own,  and  we  arrived 
at  our  destination  the  most  companionable  trio  in 
the  world.  The  house  gave  no  exterior  sign  of 
the  amusing  evening  upon  which  the  Marquis  re- 
peatedly avowed  we  were  entering,  for  it  was  a 
thing  of  sepulchral  darkness,  not  so  much  as  a 
gleam  from  the  hall  lamp  relieving  the  front  of  its 
inhospitable  grimness. 

We  entered  by  an  iron  gate  in  an  arched  grille, 
the  key  to  which  the  Marquis  took  from  his  pocket, 
with  an  inept  remark  as  to  the  convenience  of  doing 
without  a  concierge.  He  let  us  into  the  house  him- 
self, and  when  we  had  passed  from  a  small  vesti- 
bule into  the  main  hall,  we  were  in  a  blaze  of 
electric  light.  Levignet's  cry  of  astonishment 
mightily  pleased  our  host. 

"  You  cannot  judge  all  things  by  outward  ap- 
pearances, M.  Levignet.  We  who  live  in  the 


152  Marcel    Levignet 

world  must  know  how  to  cheat  the  curious.  When 
you  said  to  me  this  evening  that  all  Paris  knows 
how  the  time  passes  with  the  clients  of  Pleasure, 
did  I  not  tell  you  that  Pleasure  had  her  temples  of 
which  even  gossip  is  ignorant?  My  faith,  if  one 
could  not  nibble  his  pistache  in  unsuspected  privacy 
once  in  a  while,  one  might  as  well  be  a  mummy  or  a 
signpost.  Secrecy  is  a  sauce  to  pleasure." 

"  Quite  true,"  Levignet  assented.  "  If  we  were 
to  practise  our  vices  as  openly  as  we  parade  our 
virtues,  life  would  be  as  dry  and  monotonous  as  a 
Sahara.  The  fascination  of  our  so-called  im- 
moralities is  the  darkness  that  envelops  them !  "  . 

"  My  exact  opinion,  M.  Levignet.  Should  our 
government  offer  a  prize  for  the  vices  as  it  does 
for  the  virtues,  I  doubt  if  there  would  be  a  dozen 
competitors  for  it  in  all  France,  after  the  first 
generation.  Breaking  the  conventions  and  evad- 
ing the  laws  of  society  are  the  only  reliefs  from 
the  tedium  of  existence." 

We  had  given  our  hats  to  a  footman  and  were 
mounting  the  broad  velvet-carpeted  stairway  as  the 
Marquis  exposed  his  ethical  theory.  Someone  was 
singing  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  flute  and 
piano,  and  we  stopped  on  the  broad  landing  to 
listen.  A  very  good  voice,  evidently  well-trained. 

"  Do  you  recognise  the  singer?  "  asked  the  Mar- 
quis, looking  from  Levignet  to  me. 

"  I  seem  to  have  heard  her,"  Levignet  answered. 


Marcel   Levignet  153 

"  Of  course  you  have.  It  is  Mademoiselle 
Faustine  of  the  Opera." 

"  But  the  afternoon  papers  said  she  was  suffer- 
ing an  indisposition,  and  could  not  sing  to-night," 
I  ventured  to  object. 

44  The  papers  are  a  great  convenience,  monsieur. 
Sometimes  it  is  necessary  to  impose  on  them. 
Mademoiselle  could  not  sing  in  public  to-night  be- 
cause she  was  indisposed  to  slight  our  little  reunion. 
Be  obliging  enough  to  come  with  me.  I  will  pro- 
vide you  with  a  dress  for  the  salon.  It  is  a  rule 
of  our  symposia  that  no  one  but  the  host  shall 
participate  in  them  undisguised.  I  have  masks 
and  dominoes  for  your  service." 

He  led  the  way  into  #  luxurious  room  at  the 
end  of  the  corridor,  and  after  unlocking  a  cellaret 
for  our  benefit  excused  himself  to  go  and  select 
our  masquerade  dress. 


XXI 

WELL,  Levignet,"  I  said,  when  we  were 
alone.  "  You  seem  to  be  on  excellent 
terms  with  the  gentleman  whose  morals 
you  painted  in  such  shady  colours  this  afternoon." 

Levignet  chuckled. 

"  I  would  be  on.  good  terms  with  the  Old  Gentle- 
man himself,  if  it  would  serve  my  end.  I  have 
an  object  in  view  that  justifies  my  intimacy  with 
this  high  priest  of  Cotytto." 

"  To  increase  your  knowledge  of  social  progress, 
no  doubt?" 

"  Possibly.  Though  I  am  pretty  well  informed 
as  to  the  character  of  our  social  extremes,  the  scum 
at  the  top  and  the  dregs  at  the  bottom.  For  pur- 
poses of  general  investigation,  I  prefer  the  latter; 
there  is  greater  diversity,  more  originality." 

"  Then  you  have  a  specific  object?  " 

"  Naturally." 

"  In  the  interest  of  Mademoiselle  Dupont?  " 

"  Bah !  I  have  no  interest  in  fools  of  that 
calibre.  Nature  has  only  one  brain  matrix  for 
the  females  designed  for  prostitution,  complete 
or  special.  They  are  all  the  same,  from  the  pave- 
ment nymph  in  the  general  market  to  the  preten- 
tious creature  who  sells  to  a  particular  buyer.  To 

154 


Marcel   Levignet  155 

have  analysed  one  is  to  have  diagnosed  all.  There 
is  the  same  minus  sign  in  the  brains  of  the  lot  of 
them.  But  the  street  cocotte,  whose  supper  may 
depend  on  the  success  of  her  solicitations,  is,  to  my 
mind,  very  much  more  decent  and  respectable  than 
the  women  who  wanton  with  the  phylactery  of 
1  Good  Society '  on  their  foreheads.  No,  my 
friend;  Mademoiselle  Dupont  can  get  into  the 
gorgeous  caravan  of  the  damned  as  soon  as  she 
pleases,  without  let  or  hindrance  from  me.  My 
quarry  is  Mme.  Clifton." 

"  You  expect  to  find  her  here?  " 

"  Hope,  rather  than  expect.  I  told  you  that 
I  picked  up  a  scrap  of  paper  which  the  Clifton  let 
fall  at  the  funeral  of  Dr.  Ribault?" 

"  Yes;  I  remember  you  said  something  about  it." 

"  It  was  a  bit  of  a  note  with  de  Fonteville's 
signature.  The  one  line  that  piqued  me  was,  '  I 
have  taken  the  house,  and  the  passage  is  already 
begun.'  I  knew  this  was  a  clue  of  immense  value 
to  me  as  a  fox-hunter,  but  my  poor  wits  were  set 
on  the  rack  by  it.  To  what  the  deuce  did  it  refer? 
Devilry,  of  course,  but  devilry  of  what  descrip- 
tion ?  I  have  been  baffled  at  every  turn  for  a  year. 
I  joined  the  only  club  that  has  continued  to  toler- 
ate the  Marquis — a  gambling  hell  of  the  gilded 
variety.  I  played  freely  and  lost  consistently. 
They  found  me  a  lamb  easily  to  be  shorn  and  I 
became  popular  with  the  scapegraces.  I  espe- 


i  $6  Marcel    Levignet 

daily  allowed  the  Marquis  to  dip  into  my  pocket. 
But  I  got  no  nearer  to  the  puppy's  confidence  in 
matters  outside  the  club  experience.  I  began  to 
fear  that  I  was  throwing  my  money  to  the  dogs, 
and  of  late  I  have  kept  away  from  my  fellow  profli- 
gates, turning  the  issue  over  to  Chance.  Chance 
has  pursued  her  usual  tactics.  This  evening, 
while  I  was  in  the  act  of  shaving,  preparatory  to 
fattening  my  ribs  at  your  expense,  there  came  a 
ring  at  the  street  door,  and  Suzel  announced  an 
importunate  visitor.  It  was  the  Marquis,  and  I 
had  him  in  my  dressing-room  rather  than  keep  him 
waiting.  He  hardly  got  through  with  his  greet- 
ings before  declaring  that  he  had  come  to  beg  of 
me  the  trifling  loan  of  ten  thousand  francs. 

"  I  was  suspicious,  of  course,  the  sum  asked  for 
being  so  contemptible;  but  I  scented  an  oppor- 
tunity, and  became  difficult  I  assured  him  that  I 
had  gambled  so  recklessly  that  to  advance  the  sum 
he  required  would  trouble  me,  and  I  must  have 
some  guaranty  of  its  early  repayment. 

"  'Alas,  that  I  cannot  give  you,  monsieur.  Re- 
payment, yes!  early  repayment  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. My  affairs  will  be  in  a  muddle  for  another 
six  months.  But  I  will  offer  you  a  consideration. 
Give  me  your  cheque,  which  I  must  use  within  the 
hour,  and  I  will  introduce  you  to-night  to  one  of 
the  circles  you  have  so  many  times  hinted  a  desire 
to  enter.' 


Marcel    Levignet  157 

"  '*  One  of  the  arcana  ? ' 

"  *  The  arcanum,'  he  replied,  with  a  leer. 

"  *  Well,  on  those  terms  I  think  I  can  fish  up 
the  money  from  my  strong  box.' 

"  *  Pardon  me,  but  the  money  itself  might  tempt 
me  into  folly.  I  prefer  your  cheque.' 

"  This  struck  me  as  being  odd,  but  I  passed  it 
over  with  a  nod. 

"'Very  well;  I  will  write  a  cheque,  and  the 
moment  I  have  entered  the  charmed  circle,  I  will 
put  it  into  your  hand.' 

"  '  You  distrust  me,  monsieur?  ' 

"  The  little  beggar  actually  stiffened  into  a 
dignity  that  might  have  done  credit  to  one  of  his 
respectable  ancestors. 

"  '  Not  in  the  smallest  degree,  Marquis.  But,  as 
you  know,  my  father  extracted  my  fortune  from 
chocolate,  and  I  have  the  commercial  instinct.  I 
never  pay  for  a  commodity  until  after  the  delivery. 
It  is  a  principle — not  an  indication  of  distrust. 
You  might  be  run  over  by  an  omnibus  before  we 
reached  your  destination,  and  then  I  should  be  at 
the  painful  necessity  of  rifling  your  pockets  to  re- 
cover the  cheque ;  or,  what  would  be  still  more  dis- 
agreeable, instruct  the  bank  to  stop  payment.' 

"  As  I  went  on  shaving  while  I  talked,  the  rep- 
robate chose  to  see  the  comical  phase  of  the  pre- 
caution, and  burst  out  laughing. 

"  *  Word  of  honour,  M.  Levignet,  your  hour- 


158  Marcel    Levignet 

geois  is  ever  a  droll  fellow.  It  shall  be  as  you 
say.  I  shall  return  for  you  in  the  course  of  the 
hour,  when  I  have  notified  the  person  that  the 
money  is  in  hand.' 

"  I  bowed  the  marionette  out  and  went  on  with 
the  completion  of  my  toilet  in  a  curious  perplexity 
of  mind  because  of  my  inability  to  account  for  the 
loan  and  the  conditions  under  which  it  was  made. 
I  don't  see  the  drift  of  it  now,  but  at  least  you  now 
understand  my  cavalier  treatment  of  our  engage- 
ment to  dine,  and  why  I  am  here." 

"  Pardon  me,  Levignet;  but  I  do  not  understand 
why  you  are  here." 

"  Because  I  must  neglect  no  means  that  may  help 
me  to  entrap  Madame  Clifton." 

"  And  why  have  you  so  keen  a  desire  to  catch 
her  flagrante?" 

"  Can  you  ask?  Do  you  not  know  that  she 
was  the  accomplice  of  Chartier  in  the  seduction  of 
'Toinette?  Are  you  not  certain  that  it  was  she 
who  sent  the  sham  letter  on  which  Chartier  based 
his  argument  with  Madame  Beaudais  in  favour  of 
a  secret  marriage?  Good  heavens!  Summer- 
ville,  do  you  think  I  will  rest  until  I  have  had 
revenge?  Until  I  have  that  Jezebel  in  my  grip? 
Until  I  have  set  her  behind  the  bars  or  driven  her 
into  the  Seine  ?  " 

He  spoke  excitedly,  a  momentary  passion  get- 
ting the  better  of  his  habitual  calm,  but  it  was 


Marcel    Levignet  159 

only  transitory.  In  the  next  moment  he  clapped 
me  on  the  shoulder,  and  said  laughingly : 

"  My  ghost  would  be  ashamed  to  show  itself 
on  the  other  side  if  I  should  not  get  the  better  of 
that  woman  before  I  quit  the  game." 

"  And  you  think  this  house " 

"  Is  the  house  of  the  '  passage '  ?  Yes. 
Though  what  the  *  passage  '  is " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  Marquis,  who  was 
followed  by  a  servant  bearing  the  articles  for  our 
disguise. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  you  should  be  in  character," 
he  said,  as  the  dominoes  of  white  nun's  veiling  and 
visors  of  white  satin  were  given  to  us.  "  This  is 
the  customary  garb  of  the  novice,  and  it  is  only 
after  one  has  been  fully  inducted  into  the  society 
that  one  is  given  an  identity.  It  will  be  thought 
by  the  company  that  you  are  candidates  for  initia- 
tion, and  it  is  understood,  of  course,  that  I  vouch 
for  your  trustworthiness.  May  I,  therefore,  be 
pardoned  for  imposing  on  you  the  usual  formula? 
You  give  me  your  word  not  to  reveal  to  anyone 
any  fact  or  circumstance,  incident  or  person,  with 
which  you  may  become  acquainted  between  the 
times  of  entering  and  quitting  this  house?  " 

We  gave  the  required  assurance. 

"  You  must  know  that  each  member  of  our 
group  has  the  name  of  the  historic  or  traditional 
personage  with  whom  he  or  she  is  supposed  to  be 


160  Marcel    Levignet 

in  affinity.  It  will  not  surprise  you,  then,  to  be 
surrounded  by  famous  people,  and  if  you  hear  me 
addressed  as  Nero,  I  hope  you  will  understand  that 
it  is  in  recognition  of  my  accomplishments  as  a 
musician,  poet,  vocalist  and  sybarite  rather  than  a 
testimony  to  my  depravity — for  I  am  the  emperor 
of  this  little  world  of  pleasure-seekers." 

"  And  as  lavish  as  your  prototype,  by  the  evi- 
dences of  this  room,"  Levignet  remarked,  as  he 
glanced  at  the  rich  furnishing,  and  curiously 
prodded  the  walls  of  quilted  silk.  "  This  room 
seems  to  have  been  prepared  with  the  purpose  of 
shutting  out  sound." 

"  Or  shutting  in  sound,"  the  Marquis  replied, 
with  a  dry  chuckle.  "  Most  of  the  rooms  in  the 
house  are  treated  in  similar  fashion — thickly 
padded  walls  and  double  velvet  hangings  at  the 
windows.  Our  aim  is  to  exclude  the  vulgar  from 
the  slightest  participation  in  our  festivities.  Not 
a  ray  of  light,  not  the  ghost  of  a  whisper  can  betray 
to  a  passer-by  a  suggestion  of  life  within  the  house 
when  the  society  is  assembled.  Why,  monsieur, 
you  might  discharge  a  pistol  without  fear  of  alarm- 
ing the  occupants  of  the  adjoining  room.  This 
is  the  House  of  Secrecy." 

"  Very  useful,"  said  Levignet,  irrelevantly. 


XXII 

OUR  dominoes  and  masks  put  on,  the  Mar- 
quis conducted  us  to  the  salon,  into  which 
he  ushered  us  with  the  announcement  that 
we  were  two  seekers  after  light,  and  excused  his 
tardiness  with  the  plea  of  his  mission  work. 

A  volley  of  badinage  was  levelled  at  him  and 
us  from  half  a  hundred  masked  persons  whose 
costumes  were  apparently  borrowed  from  the  ward- 
robe of  heathen  antiquity,  sacred  and  profane. 
The  general  tenor  of  the  remarks  was  the  com- 
plaint that  Nero  had  reduced  them  to  starvation 
by  his  remissness,  and  there  was  an  urgent  demand 
for  the  belated  banquet. 

The  Marquis  drew  out  his  watch  and  held  the 
open  dial  to  the  general  view. 

"  You  see  I  am  on  time  to  the  minute.  Your 
appetites  are  not  reliable  time-pieces.  But,"  he 
touched  an  electric  button  as  he  spoke,  "  the  signal 
is  given,  and  our  devotions  shall  begin." 

Then,  in  a  lower  tone,  he  said  to  Levignet : 

"  Monsieur,  my  part  of  the  compact  is  ful- 
filled." 

"  And  mine  shall  be  on  the  instant,"  said 
Levignet,  producing  from  under  his  domino  a 
folded  cheque,  which  he  gave  to  the  Marquis. 

161 


162  Marcel    Levignet 

De  Fonteville,  without  opening  it,  thanked 
Levignet  for  the  cheque,  and  thrust  it  into  a  pocket 
of  his  waistcoat. 

"  You  have  not  looked  to  see  that  it  is  in  form," 
Levignet  cautioned  him. 

"  I  did  not  win  your  money  at  the  club,  mon- 
sieur, without  forming  an  opinion  of  your  char- 
acter. That  I  have  brought  you  here  this  evening 
in  the  company  of  a  gentleman  quite  unknown  to 
me  is  evidence  that  I  do  not  think  you  entirely  un- 
trustworthy." 

The  people  were  crowding  out  of  the  room,  in 
unceremonious  gaiety,  but  one  of  the  women,  lin- 
gering behind,  approached  the  Marquis  as  he  was 
speaking. 

"Well,  Nero?  "she  asked,  the  tone  of  her 
voice  being  at  once  a  challenge  and  a  threat. 

"  *  Requiescat  in  pace'  "  as  the  tombstones  say. 
"  It  is  in  my  pocket." 

"  So  much  the  better."  She  bowed  and  took 
the  arm  of  a  waiting  Persian,  who  led  her  away. 

"  I  am  rather  surprised,"  said  Levignet,  non- 
chalantly, "  to  find  Madame  Clifton  in  your  merry 
assembly,  Marquis." 

The  Marquis  looked  at  him  sharply,  but  the 
satin  visor  was  not  less  communicative  than  the 
dark  eyes  that  looked  innocently  through  the 
openings. 

"  You  are  in  error,  monsieur." 


Marcel   Levignet  163 

"Possibly,"  Levignet  assented;  "but  the  lady 
who  just  spoke  to  you " 

"  Pardon  me,  monsieur,"  interrupted  the  Mar- 
quis. "  I  neglected  to  acquaint  you  with  one  of 
our  canons.  No  one  is  known  in  this  society  but 
by  the  name  in  which  he  or  she  was  initiated. 
Who  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  really  are  is  sup- 
posed to  be  known  only  to  myself.  One  member 
may  suspect  the  identity  of  another,  but  in  no  cir- 
cumstances is  he  permitted  to  speak  of  it  or  utter 
the  name  of  the  person.  Certain  persons,  it  is 
true,  are  known  to  each  other,  but  for  the  majority 
our  motto  *  Non  mi  ricordo '  could  be  interpreted, 
*  I  do  not  know.'  " 

"  I  apologise  for  my  indiscretion,  Marquis. 
But  you  will  admit  that  you  led  me  into  it  by  speak- 
ing the  name  of  the  singer  we  heard  on  the  stairs." 

"  Ah !  that  is  another  matter,  monsieur.  Our 
professional  associates,  exclusively  feminine,  have 
no  reason  to  wish  to  conceal  their  identity.  Each 
one  of  them  is  known  to  us  all,  but  she  knows  none 
of  us,  myself  always  excepted,  save  by  our  mem- 
bership names.  It  is  understood,  monsieur?" 

"  Perfectly,  Marquis." 

"  Then,  let  us  follow  in  to  dinner,  for  they  will 
not  sit  down  until  I  am  at  the  table." 

"  Now  for  an  orgie,"  Levignet  whispered  into 
my  ear,  as  we  passed  through  the  doorway. 


XXIII 

THE  famous  Caliph  of  Bagdad  himself 
would  have  regarded  with  gratification 
the  sumptuousness  of  the  room  in  which 
the  banquet  was  about  to  be  served.  It  was  fur- 
nished in  bizarre  Oriental  style  with  the  addition 
of  modern  luxury,  and  the  tables  were  laden  with 
a  service  in  which  gold  seemed  to  struggle  with 
silver  for  supremacy.  About  the  tables,  three 
round  ones  arranged  like  a  clover  leaf,  were  semi- 
circular seats,  upholstered  in  morocco  and  furnished 
with  silk  cushions,  each  designed  to  hold  two  per- 
sons at  a  time.  The  lights  of  the  room  were 
hooded,  and  were  just  numerous  enough  to  cast  a 
mellow  golden  glow  over  the  assembly  in  a  way  to 
heighten  the  general  effect  and  enrich  the  charm  of 
the  women.  The  attendants  were  white-turbaned 
negroes  in  Turkish  garb.  I  could  not  reconcile  the 
spectacle  with  de  Fonteville's  urgent  need  for  such 
a  beggarly  sum  as  ten  thousand  francs. 

The  Marquis,  who  had  gone  to  unlock  an  en- 
chased box  placed  on  a  small  table  in  a  corner, 
took  from  it  four  or  five  white  cards.  Holding 
these  in  his  hand,  he  turned  to  the  company  and 
said,  with  a  smile  that  brought  out  all  the  sugges- 
tive evil  of  his  thin,  lewd  face: 

164 


Marcel    Levignet  165 

"  I  sec  that  you  were  very  well  pleased  with  your 
last  distribution  at  table," — a  remark  that  seemed 
to  afford  the  company  no  small  amusement. 
"  There  are  but  five  requests  for  changes  of  place. 
I  thank  you  for  giving  me  so  little  trouble  to-night. 
But  we  have  two  novitiates  to  dispose  of,  and  I 
must  make  the  rearrangement  with  regard  to  them. 
The  younger  White  Domino  I  assign  to  Helen 
of  Troy,  in  the  hope  that  she  will  find  in  him 
another  Paris.  He  has  stature,  at  any  rate. 
Ariadne  may  continue  her  search  for  Theseus  under 
the  guidance  of  the  other  White  Domino,  who,  I 
can  promise  her,  is  a  master  magician  in  the  simple 
art  of  wisdom.  Clytie,  who  so  ungenerously 
abandons  me,  shall  murmur  her  complaints  into 
the  ear  of  Hercules,  to  whose  superiority  I  bow; 
and  the  exacting  Diana  may  share  her  fauteuil 
with  Meleager,  who,  happily,  does  not  tremble  at 
the  burning  of  a  green  firebrand,  and  rushes  fe- 
verishly into  change.  That  completes  the  readjust- 
ment and  the  rest  of  you  may  follow  your  desires ; 
but  I  hope  some  lady  will  think  it  unbecoming  that 
Nero  should  sit  in  loneliness." 

Amid  a  good  deal  of  merriment,  we  took  our 
respective  places,  and  the  babel  of  conversation 
began,  growing  more  and  more  animated  as  the 
courses  succeeded  one  another  and  the  wines  were 
changed. 

Helen  of  Troy  was  communicative  and  of  a 


1 66  Marcel    Levignet 

lively  fancy.  Her  throat,  and  the  visible  part 
of  her  face  proclaimed  her  young  and  passing  fair. 
Her  manner  was  well-bred,  even  distinguished, 
and  I  felicitated  myself  on  the  good  fortune  that 
cast  her  to  my  lot.  She  early  relieved  my  per- 
plexity over  the  Marquis'  private  need  and  the 
munificence  of  our  surroundings  by  informing  me 
that  the  Society  was  communistic,  each  member 
contributing  to  the  maintenance  of  the  establish- 
ment and  the  provision  of  its  pleasures.  What 
these  pleasures  were,  beyond  feasting  and  drink- 
ing, she  declared  I  might  not  know  until  I  had 
passed  from  the  domino  to  the  costume  degree  of 
initiation;  but  intimated  that  the  transition  was  an 
easy  one,  which  need  not  be  delayed  beyond  the 
evening  if  I  chose  to  subscribe  to  the  terms  and 
penalties  of  fellowship. 

"What  are  the  terms  and  penalties?" 
"  For  instructions  on  that  head  you  must  apply 
to  Nero  and  Messalina." 

"  Messalina  is  the  lady  who  sits  beside  Nero?  " 
"  Oh,  good  heaven,  no !    She  is  among  us,  but 
not  one  of  us.     Messalina  is  the  lady  in  purple  at 
the  extreme  right." 

She  designated  the  person  whom  Levignet  sus- 
pected to  be  Madame  Clifton,  and  Levignet  sat  at 
an  arc  of  the  same  table  that  gave  him  the  oppor- 
tunity to  watch  and  listen  to  "  Messalina,"  were 
he  so  inclined. 


Marcel    Levignet  167 

"  At  least  you  can  enlighten  me  as  to  the  objects 
of  the  association?" 

Helen  laughed,  and  gave  me  a  quizzical  glance 
from  the  visor-shaded  eyes. 

"  Do  you  need  to  be  enlightened?  Can  you  not 
judge  by  what  you  see?  Isn't  there  something  in 
Latin  about  the  foot  of  Hercules?  Can  you  not 
imagine  that  our  object  is  to  eat,  drink  and  be 
merry,  as  the  wise  Solomon,  or  whoever  it  was, 
bade  us?  We  are  Epicureans  without  reserve, 
temporarily  freed  from  the  social  hypocrisies  that 
ordinarily  enslave  us." 

"  You  are  not  entirely  free,  however,  since  you 
still  wear  a  mask." 

"  That  is  only  because  there  is  always  some 
novice  at  our  board  of  whose  good  faith  we  are 
not  yet  assured.  Liberty  without  security  is  a 
form  of  bondage." 

"  But  your  disguise  is  not  impenetrable.  I 
should  know  that  mouth  of  yours  and  the  flash  of 
teeth  through  its  smiling  lips,  wherever  I  might 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  them." 

"  You  think  so?  Shall  you  be  at  the  filysee  re- 
ception next  week?" 

"  I  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  secure  a 
card." 

"  Then  I  shall  challenge  you  to  approach  me 
with  a  reminder  that  you  dined  with  me  to-night." 

u  I  admit  the  possibility  of  a  blunder." 


1 68  Marcel    Levignet 

"  And  that  possibility  is  precisely  my  safeguard 
against  your  impertinence." 

"But  if  I  should  take  that  risk?  If  I  should 
come  to  you  and  say  '  Mademoiselle,  you  have 
promised  me  a  tete-a-tete,'  what  would  you  say?  " 

"  I  should  look  at  you,  monsieur,  and  you 
would  apologise  for  your  stupidity  in  mistaking 
me  for  another." 

"And  if  I  persisted?" 

"  I  should  walk  away  from  you,  and  you  would 
have  the  honour  of  exchanging  cards  with  any  one 
of  a  dozen  gentlemen." 

"  Members  of  the  association?  " 

"  Not  necessarily."  She  smiled  piquantly  as 
she  added,  "  My  husband,  for  example." 

"  Is  there  a  Menelaus,  then?" 

"  Perhaps." 

"  And  you  would  appeal  to  him  ?  " 

"Why  not?  Husbands  must  be  put  to  some 
use — or  where  is  the  good  of  having  them?  " 

"  Precisely.  But  I  hope  the  rules  of  the  asso- 
ciation do  not  limit  our  acquaintance  to  table  inter- 
course." 

"  As  for  that,  monsieur,  much  depends  upon  the 
way  in  which  you  qualify  as  an  initiate." 

"And  you  cannot  conduct  my  initiation?  " 

"  Not  primarily.    I  am  a  subordinate  priestess." 

"  Messalina  being  the  superior?  " 

"  You  have  said  it." 


Marcel  Levignet  169 

"  And  if  I  have  her  favour?  " 

14  Oh,  then,  monsieur,  you  will  be  so  much  one 
of  us  that  you  may  be  trusted  to  pick  up  the  glove 
of  any  lady  who  drops  it  at  your  feet." 

"It  is  '  lady's  choice,'  then?" 

"  Otherwise,  we  might  content  ourselves  with 
the  limitations  of  conventional  society." 

"  I  have  not  found  those  limitations  oppressively 
narrow." 

"  Naturally.  Society  is  organised  on  the  ridic- 
ulous basis  of  masculine  prerogative.  It  gives 
the  man  absolute  freedom  in  the  choice  of  moral 
conduct.  He  may  be  a  Lovelace,  a  Don  Juan  or 
a  Satyr,  without  forfeiting  his  character  of  gentle- 
man or  missing  an  invitation  to  the  salon  of  the 
most  sanctimonious  of  our  fashionable  Pharisees. 
That  is  a  condition  from  which  a  sensible  woman 
must  revolt.  She  has  three  ways  of  making  her 
protest — by  excluding  herself  from  the  society 
whose  gaieties  fascinate  her  in  spite  of  her  knowl- 
edge of  the  sham  virtue  upon  which  it  rests;  by 
entering  the  forum  as  a  reformer  of  abuses  which 
she  knows  the  public  has  no  sincere  wish  to  cor- 
rect; or  by  asserting  her  individual  right  to  play 
her  full  part  in  the  comedy  as  long  as  she  has 
spirit  enough  to  enjoy  and  charm  enough  to  excite 
the  pleasure  which  civilisation  declares  to  be  the 
chief  end  of  life.  Decidedly  the  latter  alternative 
is  preferable  to  the  convent  or  the  platform,  in  \ 


i  ;o  Marcel    Levignet 

the  opinion  of  most  women  of  active  blood  and 
alert  mind.  This  society  represents  the  organised 
revolt  of  womanhood  as  it  is  going  on  in  every 
capital  of  the  world.  We  are  sowing  the  seed 
that  will  be  the  rich  harvest  of  another  generation, 
when  there  will  be  no  sort  of  distinction  between 
the  privileges  and  liberties  of  the  sexes." 

Before  I  could  make  any  reply,  she  raised  her 
wine-glass  and,  leaning  forward,  spoke  in  a  tone 
loud  enough  to  dominate  the  hum  of  the  general 
conversation. 

"  If  it  please  your  Imperial  Majesty,  the  novice 
is  forcing  me  into  homiletics.  I  am  in  the  midst 
of  a  sermon  on  social  discords.  How  shall  he 
be  punished,  to  propitiate  our  deities?" 

There  was  a  burst  of  laughter  and  a  general  cry 
of  "Sorbet!" 

Nero  rose  to  his  feet,  motioned  his  wine-glass 
toward  Helen  in  salutation,  and  the  two  took  a  sip 
from  their  respective  glasses. 

"  Sir  Novice,"  said  Nero,  fixing  his  eyes  on  me, 
"  you  have  been  the  means  of  betraying  one  of  our 
number  into  a  forbidden  subject.  The  company 
requires  you  to  be  punished  by  the  ordeal  of  the 
Sorbet,  the  humiliation  of  gallant  manhood.  Let 
the  penitential  Sorbet  be  given  to  the  Novice." 

His  final  remark  was  addressed  to  one  of  the 
turbaned  attendants,  who,  with  a  mock  gesture  of 
despair,  withdrew,  and  presently  returned  with  an 


Marcel    Levignet  171 

ice  that  filled  a  distressingly  large-sized  glass. 
Nero  continued  to  stand  regarding  me,  while  every 
sort  of  good-natured  sarcasm  was  hurled  at  me  by 
the  revellers,  who  affected  to  be  in  pitiful  sympathy 
with  Helen. 

As  the  ice  was  set  in  front  of  me,  Nero  bade  me 
rise,  which  I  did  to  a  clapping  of  hands  and  a  salvo 
of  expletives. 

"  Novice,"  began  Nero,  with  judicial  gravity, 
"  Heaven  gave  you  lips  red  with  the  warmth  of 
sensuous  fire,  and  you  profane  them  with  the  cold 
speech  of  a  dead  morality.  We  can  see  on  them 
the  pallor  of  starved  desire.  Let  them  be  utterly 
chilled.  Hold  to  your  lips  the  double  Sorbet, 
which  you  may  not  remove  from  them  until  you 
have  consumed  the  last  particle." 

I  complied  smilingly  with  the  order,  but  soon 
found  the  performance  so  far  from  amusing  that 
I  begged  to  be  pardoned  in  the  midst  of  it.  The 
company  was  hilariously  inexorable,  and  I  com- 
pleted the  penalty  in  heroic  martydom. 

"Are  your  lips  chilled  of  all  sensation?"  de- 
manded Nero,  as  the  others  laughed. 

"  Frozen,"  I  replied. 

"  Then  rise,  Helen." 

Helen  obeyed,  with  no  other  demur  than  a  comi- 
cal "  Br-r-r,"  and  an  affected  shiver. 

"  Novice,  press  your  lips  to  the  lady's  throat." 

Helen  gave  a  cry  at  the  touch  of  my  lips,  and 


Marcel    Levignet 

recoiled,  chatteringly  muffling  a  trifle  of  lace 
about  her  breast  as  she  crouched  down  into  the 
corner  of  our  fauteuil,  declaring  that  I  had  turned 
her  into  an  iceberg. 

The  absurd  incident  seemed  to  act  as  a  signal  to 
the  mischievous  company  to  throw  off  artificial 
restraints,  and,  wine  having  begun  to  assert  its  au- 
thority, the  feast  developed  into,  a  Bacchanalia 
from  that  moment. 


XXIV 

E1GNET  was,  of  course,  right  in  what  he 
said   about  the   eternal   sameness   of  the 
"  feminine  brain   of    the     minus    sign." 
Whatever    the    name — Delilah,    Thais,    Phryne, 
Aspasia,  Chloe,  Cora  or  Mimi;  urban  or  rustic, 
shepherdess  or  countess,  impudent  Lorette  or  arro- 
gant grande  dame — it  is  the  one  type,  little  variant, 
indestructible ;  and  the  methods  of  the  lupanar  are 
the  expedients  of  the  boudoir. 

Levignet,  whom  I  knew  to  be  wine-proof,  be- 
came one  of  the  noisiest  and  most  demonstrative  of 
the  convivialists.  He  declaimed  snatches  of  verse 
from  Villon  and  Verlaine.  He  made  mad  jests 
as  couples,  at  intervals,  withdrew  from  the  tables 
to  sit  in  the  remote  corners  or  wander  off,  perhaps 
to  the  salon.  He  told  humorous  anecdotes  in  a 
way  to  excite  the  interest  of  the  amatory  egoists 
who  were  disposed  to  forget  everything  but  their 
own  philanderings.  Helen  of  Troy  was  more  at- 
tentive to  him  than  to  me,  and  did  not  scruple,  after 
giving  me  a  playful  buffet  on  the  cheek,  to  quit  my 
side  and  run  to  a  seat  just  vacated  opposite  to 
Levignet.  Having  been  to  market  for  a  nightin- 
gale, I  did  not  purpose  to  return  with  a  goose,  so 
gave  chase  to  Helen,  barely  intercepting  a  tipsy 

173 


i74  Marcel   Levignet 

Roman  who  was  about  to  lurch  into  the  place  be- 
side her. 

"  Then  you  are  not  absolutely  destitute  of 
spirit?  "  she  laughed. 

"  I  do  not  shine  in  company,"  I  admitted;  "  but 
bracketed  in  a  cosy  nook  with  a  pretty  woman  I 
am  not  unimaginative.  May  we  not  follow  the 
example  of  some  of  the  others,  and  smoke  our 
cigarettes  under  the  rose  ?  " 

"  What  presumption  you  novices  always  have  I 
You  fancy  yourself  already  a  privileged  member 
because  you  have  broken  bread  with  us  and  drunk 
yourself  impudent?  My  dear  innocent,  look  at 
your  left-hand  neighbour.  Do  you  observe  the  cu- 
rious ring  on  his  little  finger?  Glance  at  the  other 
gentlemen.  Do  you  not  see  that  each  wears  a  simi- 
lar token?  You  must  know,  then,  monsieur,  that 
no  lady  has  private  favours  for  any  man  who  is 
not  certified  in  that  fashion.  Heaven  above  us! 
Do  you  think  we  offer  ourselves  a  prey  to  wolves 
in  sheep's  clothing?" 

"  Then  I  have  been  building  Spanish  castles  all 
the  evening?" 

"  Oh,  a  Spanish  castle  is  habitable,  if  you  wear 
the  Lucky  Cap." 

"  Tell  me  how  to  get  possession  of  the  Lucky 
Cap." 

"  You  must  grab  for  it  in  the  invisible." 

"The  riddle  of  the  Sphinx?" 


Marcel    Levignet  175 

"  Which  Oedipus  may  solve." 

"  Be  magnanimous,  and  give  me  a  clue." 

"To  my  own  possible  destruction?  But  I  will 
prove  my  fearlessness.  In  the  first  darkness,  reach 
out  your  hand  and  clutch.  Hold  fast  to  what  you 
grasp  and  in  the  light  you  will  know  your  reward." 

"  Very  lucid,  I  give  you  my  word,  Helen,  and 
I  am  deeply  grateful,  believe  me !  " 

She  laughed  at  my  discomfiture,  declared  I  would 
deserve  no  more  than  I  got  if  I  failed  to  act  upon 
her  hint,  and  turned  her  attention  to  Levignet,  who 
was  tipsily  struggling  to  his  feet,  vowing  that,  as 
Messalina  had  refused  to  laugh  at  his  jests,  he 
thought  her  the  only  wise  one  for  his  serious  con- 
versation. 

I  noticed  that  Messalina  had  risen  and  was 
standing  back  of  the  chair  in  which  she  had  been 
seated.  As  Levignet  unsteadily  made  his  way  to- 
ward her,  she  raised  her  hand  and  said  sharply: 

"  Attention,  ladies." 

At  once  the  ladies  rose  from  their  places  and 
stepped  behind  their  chairs,  to  a  chorus  of  joculari- 
ties. Not  being  in  the  vein  for  a  dull  half  hour 
with  the  men,  I  was  on  the  point  of  rising  to  ac- 
company the  ladies  to  the  salon,  when,  suddenly, 
the  lights  went  out,  leaving  the  room  in  Cimmerian 
blackness.  There  were  cries  and  a  scuffling  con- 
fusion, as  if  the  company  had  been  thrown  into  a 
panic,  but  it  was  rather  an  amused  than  an  alarmed 


176  Marcel   Levignet 

manifestation  I  fancied,  and  I  sat  back  in  my  chair 
to  await  the  return  of  light. 

But  after  my  momentary  stupidity,  the  signifi- 
cance of  Helen's  words  flashed  into  my  mind,  and 
I  sprang  up  and  clutched  into  the  darkness  back  of 
me.  My  hand  grasped  the  fold  of  a  garment, 
and,  holding  to  it,  I  exclaimed  exultantly: 

"  I  have  you,  Helen !  Now  for  the  castle  in 
Spain  I" 

She  moved  away,  but  I  followed,  holding  firmly 
to  the  garment,  jostling  against  others,  taking  my 
share  in  the  merry  disorder  that  made  no  account 
of  overturned  furniture  and  the  occasional  sharp 
ring  of  broken  crystal.  I  seemed  to  be  led  away 
from  the  midst  of  the  turmoil  which  gradually 
subsided,  and  presently  there  was  a  silence  that 
made  me  think  I  had  been  guided  into  a  secluded 
room. 

"At  last,  my  beauty  I" 

In  that  moment,  the  lights  were  turned  on,  and 
blinking  the  sudden  glare,  I  looked  eagerly  into 
the  face  of  my  captive,  only  to  see  the  grinning 
ivories  of  one  of  the  blackamoor  attendants  whose 
tunic  I  clutched. 

A  derisive  guffaw  added  to  my  chagrin,  and, 
looking  toward  the  other  end  of  the  room,  for  I 
was  still  in  the  supper-room,  I  saw  the  Marquis,  a 
solitary  figure  at  the  table,  sitting  back  in  his  chair, 
shaking  with  enjoyment  at  my  misadventure. 


Marcel    Levignet  177 

"  So,  monsieur,  your  preference  is  declared  1 
You  surrender  a  Helen  to  seize  an  Othello !  Well, 
each  one  to  his  taste,  and  good  luck  to  you !  " 

"Where  are  the  others?"  I  demanded,  ignor- 
ing his  remarks  and  the  cause  of  them. 

"Ah,  who  shall  say,  monsieur!  But  they  have 
left  us  plenty  of  good  wine,  and  there  are  cigars 
to  your  choice.  Come;  sit  down.  Let  us  im- 
prove our  leisure." 

"And  M.  Levignet?"  I  insisted. 

The  monkey  thumped  back  on  the  table  the 
bottle  he  was  lifting  and  the  mocking  smile  left  his 
lips. 

"  The  devil  I  I  had  forgotten  him !  You  are 
right.  It  is  necessary  that  we  look  to  him.  He 
was  in  an  uncertain  condition.  Come.  We  will 
search  for  him." 

He  approached  a  door  which  he  opened,  motion- 
ing to  me  to  precede  him.  I  sat  down  in  a  chair 
at  the  table  and  took  a  cigarette  from  one  of  the 
silver  caskets. 

"  Pardon  me,  Marquis,  but  I  never  interfere 
with  a  friend.  I  accept  your  invitation  to  improve 
our  leisure." 

The  Marquis  stood  hesitatingly  a  moment,  eye- 
ing me  curiously,  then  closed  the  door  and,  with 
an  "  As  you  please,  monsieur,"  came  smilingly  to 
take  his  former  place  at  the  table.  But  as  he 
sat  down,  he  said  to  the  black  attendant : 


1 78  Marcel    Levignet 

"  Hussan,  look  about  the  place  for  the  gentle- 
man in  a  white  domino.  Help  him  to  return 
here." 

"  I  doubt  if  he  will  find  M.  Levignet,"  I  said, 
looking  quizzically  at  the  Marquis  as  the  servant 
went  out. 

"You  do?"  asked  the  Marquis  easily,  as  he 
filled  a  glass  for  me.  "  Our  excellent  friend 
probably  is  at  this  moment  reclining  on  the  first 
sofa  he  came  to.  Our  wines  are  old  and  somnif- 
erous. M.  Levignet  drank  freely.  He  has  not 
wandered  far." 

"  Why  not  suppose  he  is  in  the  salon  with  the 
others?" 

De  Fonteville  held  his  glass  against  the  light, 
and  watched  the  sparkling  play  of  the  bubbles,  an 
enigmatical  smile  on  his  thin  lips,  and  spoke  with- 
out seeming  to  address  me. 

"  These  little  sprites  and  elves  that  spring  up 
so  gaily  from  the  bottom  of  the  glass  and  dart  in 
golden  globules  through  their  rich  amber  world, 
vanish  as  suddenly  when  they  reach  the  top  as  if 
they  were  phantoms.  Yet  they  are  the  very  sub- 
stance of  life  itself — the  spirit  of  the  world — as 
substantial  as  the  universe.  Where  do  you  think 
they  go,  monsieur,  when  they  leap  from  the  glass  ? 
Could  you  recover  one  of  them  and  return  it  to 
dance  once  more  in  my  wine  before  I  drink  it? 
Our  friends  of  the  evening  are  like  the  vanished 


Marcel    Levignet  179 

wine  sprites.  They  have  dispersed  into  invisi- 
bility. You  and  I,  monsieur,  are  the  only  bubbles 
left  in  the  glass.  You  would  search  in  vain  for 
the  others.  We  were  laggards.  We  are  proof 
to  each  other  that  wine  stales  and  flattens  in  the 
cup  if  we  dally  over  it.  To  your  health,  mon- 
sieur." 

We  drank  to  each  other. 

"Your  guests  have  gone,  then?"  I  asked  as  I 
set  down  my  glass. 

"  Each  to  his  own  business  or  pleasure,  Mon- 
sieur." 

"  In  that  case,  I,  too,  should  take  my  leave." 

"Why  so,  monsieur?  You  cannot  hope  to  find 
the  parallel  of  the  Helen  you  let  slip  through  your 
fingers." 

"  Why  not  hope  to  find  Helen  herself  again  ?  " 

"  Then  you  have  the  intention  to  join  us?  " 

"And  if  I  have?" 

"  I  should  be  pleased  to  proceed  to  the  initia- 
tion." 

"  The  first  step  to  which  is " 

"  Fifty  thousand  francs." 

"  And  if  one  has  not  so  much?  " 

"  One  does  not  join,  monsieur." 

"And  no  other  qualification  is  necessary?" 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  say  that,  monsieur.  There 
are  other  considerations,  naturally;  but  compliance 
with  the  first  requirement  is  in  a  measure  the  guar- 


i8o  Marcel    Levignet 

antee  of  ability  to  satisfy  us  in  respect  of  the  sec- 
ondary demands." 

"  And  you  would  accept  my  cheque  if  given 
now?" 

"  Receive,  monsieur.  Acceptance  is  rather  more 
formal.  You  will  pardon  me,  but  one  must  be 
assured  of  a  cheque's  validity.  Is  it  not  so?  " 

"  And  if  I  do  not  comply  with  the  initial  re- 
quirement, I  still  have,  in  a  sense,  been  admitted 
to  your  fellowship ;  and  it  might  be  feared " 

"  Pardon  me,  monsieur.  There  is  nothing  to 
fear.  What  can  you  claim  to  know  ?  Let  us  sup- 
pose— mind  you,  I  put  the  case  in  the  extreme — 
that  you  have  a  fancy  for  telling  tales  out  of  school. 
You  might  tell  your  friends — I  do  not  know  the 
amount  of  credit  it  would  give  you  in  their  regard 
— there  are  two  opinions  of  me  in  Paris — you 
might  tell  your  friends  that  you  had  supped  with 
the  Marquis  de  Fonteville  amid  a  joyous  company 
not  too  observant  of  conventional  forms.  You 
might  hazard  a  guess  as  to  the  character  and  con- 
dition of  the  convives,  but  you  would  hardly  be 
able  to  designate  one  of  them.  Besides,  monsieur, 
your  friend  Levignet  vouched  for  you.  An  astute 
man  is  your  friend  Levignet,  and  he  has  the  merit 
of  being  a  Parisian.  He  is  not  easily  mistaken  in 
men.  I  cannot  believe  you  are  what  we  call  a 
bavard;  but  if  you  are,  monsieur,  you  are  at  liberty 
to  prattle  to  the  extent  may  please  you.  Our  so- 


Marcel    Levignet  181 

ciety  will  not  dissolve  under  your  fancies.  It  is 
possible,  however,  that  an  indiscretion  might  in- 
volve you  in  a  duel " 

"  A  French  duel,  Marquis,"  I  interrupted,  not 
able  to  repress  a  smile,  "  is  not  a  formidable  adven- 
ture." 

"  You  think  so?  It  is  true  they  are  often  mere 
formalities  to  dispose  of  minor  points  of  difference 
between  gentlemen.  But  it  is  not  necessary  to  take 
life  in  order  to  resent  an  affront  or  punish  an 
offender.  You  Americans  and  English  pretend  to 
laugh  at  the  form  of  duelling  to  which  modern 
niceties  have  reduced  us  others.  We  French,  on 
the  other  hand,  can  but  feel  a  sort  of  mild  contempt 
for  the  people  who  settle  their  questions  of  honour 
in  the  police  court,  or  by  the  vulgar  resort  to  fisti- 
cuffs. At  least  we  take  the  chance  of  a  serious, 
perhaps  fatal  hurt  in  the  defence  of  personal  dig- 
nity; and  there  is,  believe  me,  a  greater  sense  of 
honourable  satisfaction  in  forcing  an  apology  at 
the  point  of  the  sword  than  there  can  be  in  having 
your  opponent  bound  over  to  keep  the  peace  or 
fined  for  assaulting  you." 

"  You  think  it  wipes  out  an  insult  or  an  in- 
famy if  you  succeed  in  puncturing  your  antagonist's 
wrist  with  the  point  of  a  rapier?  " 

"  Much  more  effectually  than  by  puncturing  his 
pocket  by  a  police  court  process.  When  you  abol- 
ished duelling,  monsieur,  you  should  also — to  be 


1 82  Marcel   Levignet 

consistent  in  your  claim  to  higher  civilisation — 
have  abolished  capital  punishment.  The  society 
that  hangs  or  decapitates  its  so-called  criminals  and 
yet  forbids  gentlemen  to  be  the  guardians  and 
vindicators  of  their  own  honour  and  self-respect  is 
rather  more  barbarous  than  enlightened.  If  I,  as 
an  individual,  have  not  the  right  to  kill  the  man 
who  has  attempted  to  disgrace  or  dishonour  me, 
what  gives  society  the  right  to  kill  by  *  legal ' 
methods  the  more  or  less  insane  wretch  who  incurs 
its  judicial  hatred?  For  my  part,  I  have  no  ob- 
jection to  the  gibbet  or  the  guillotine.  It  is  of  no 
importance  to  me  how  many  men  or  women  are 
executed  in  the  course  of  a  year.  I  am  inclined  to 
think,  indeed,  that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  if 
poverty  were  made  a  capital  offence.  If  we  would 
substitute  the  guillotine  for  our  alms  houses  and 
charitable  institutions,  we  could  very  quickly  solve 
some  vexatious  problems.  But  the  affectation  of 
virtue  for  having  made  duelling  impracticable  while 
we  continue  to  kill  men  who  are  powerless  to  resist 
our  organised,  legally  instituted  band  of  murderers 
is,  to  my  mind,  one  of  the  most  grotesque  burlesques 
of  morality  that  pharisaical  Christianity  has  in- 
vented." 

I  looked  at  the  Marquis  in  some  surprise.  One 
would  not  have  expected  to  hear  anything  in  this 
vein  issuing  from  the  thin  lips  of  the  worn  voluptu- 
ary who  sat  in  smiling  complacency  amid  the  debris 


Marcel    Levignet  183 

of  our  recent  orgie.  What  I  was  about  to  say  in 
reply  was  prevented  by  the  entrance  of  Hussan. 

"Well?"  asked  the  Marquis,  glancing  at  the 
salaaming  blackamoor,  "  what  have  you  done  with 
the  gentleman  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  found  him." 

"  Not  found  him  I  You  have  looked  in  every 
room?  " 

"  Every  open  room." 

The  Marquis  burst  out  laughing.  He  raised  a 
wine  glass  and  motioned  me  to  imitate  him. 

"  So,  monsieur,  your  fellow  domino  was  more 
fortunate  than  you.  He  grasped  the  robe  of  a 
goddess  while  you  clung  to  the  tunic  of  an  imp. 
When  we  take  part  in  a  game  with  Caprice,  we 
can  never  tell  what  trick  the  little  baggage  will 
play  us.  The  only  way  to  baffle  her  is  to  laugh  at 
her  pranks.  Let  us  drink  to  your  friend !  " 

"  With  the  greatest  readiness,  Marquis; — to  my 
friend  and — the  '  Secret  Passage.'  " 

It  was  a  chance  shot,  but  it  rang  the  bell.  De 
Fonteville  let  fall  his  glass,  the  smile  vanished  from 
his  lips  and  he  rose  to  his  feet,  looking  at  me  with 
a  malevolent  contracting  of  his  beady  eyes.  I 
sipped  my  wine  innocently,  as  if  my  words  had  had 
no  especial  significance. 

"  What  are  you  pleased  to  mean  by  *  Secret  Pas- 
sage,' monsieur?  " 

"  An  inadvertance,   Marquis.     I  was  thinking 


t 

184  Marcel    Levignet 

of  the  Cumaean  sibyl  and  the  dark  way  that 
wound  down  to  her  mysterious  chamber.  Your 
protonym  was  familiar  with  it,  and  in  taking  his 
name  no  doubt  you  have  adopted  his  methods. 
What  more  natural  than  that  our  Nero  of  Paris 
should  have  his  sibyl  and  his  subterranean  avenue 
of  communication  with  her?  " 

"  What  are  you  implying,  monsieur?  " 

"  What  are  you  inferring,  Marquis?  " 

"  Let  us  be  frank,  monsieur.  Let  us  play  with 
our  cards  on  the  table.  Last  evening,  to  complete 
a  sum  it  was  necessary  I  should  have  at  a  partic- 
ular hour,  I  borrowed  a  small  amount  temporarily 
from  M.  Levignet.  You  are  aware  of  that?" 

"  I  am  to  some  extent  in  M.  Levignet's  confi- 
dence." 

"  You  know,  then,  that  he  made  the  loan  con- 
ditional upon  his  introduction  here?" 

"  Most  men  require  a  4  value  received  '  in  trans- 
actions of  the  kind." 

"  Exactly.  When  M.  Levignet  came  here,  he 
also  had  in  mind  the  fable  of  the  sibyl  and  the 
underground  passage?  " 

"  I  believe  that  he  has  dipped  into  the  classics." 

"  In  short,  monsieur,  your  friend  came  as  a 
spy?" 

"  The  word  is  not  parliamentary,  Marquis.  M. 
Levignet  is  an  investigator  of  social  phenomena." 

"  It  is  too  much  to  ask  you  by  what  suggestion 


Marcel   Levignet  185 

M.  Levignet  was  led  to  fancy  he  would  find  here 
the  '  passage  '  to  a  mystery?  " 

"  When  one  wishes  to  probe  the  occult,  Mar- 
quis, one  has  recourse  to  a  sibyl,  is  it  not  so?  " 

"  You  and  M.  Levignet  are  fools,  monsieur. 
You  have  employed  the  artifice  of  children.  What 
your  object  was  I  do  not  take  the  trouble  to  in- 
quire. If  it  was  blackmail,  why " 

I  made  a  movement  to  rise,  but  the  Marquis, 
looking  beyond  me,  lifted  his  hand  in  a  peculiar 
gesture.  I  perceived  rather  than  heard  a  quick 
step  behind  me  and  had  a  flash  of  memory  that  I 
had  seen  Hussan  pass  me  some  minutes  before. 
In  the  same  instant  I  felt  a  sudden  jar  of  the  head. 

When  I  recovered  consciousness  I  found  my- 
self in  a  closed  cab  moving  at  a  leisurely  pace  along 
an  outer  boulevard.  After  some  time,  collecting 
my  thoughts,  I  put  my  head  out  the  window  and 
called  to  the  cocker. 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

The  cocker  stopped  his  horse  and  leaned  over 
to  regard  me,  as  he  said  with  an  appreciative  smile : 

"  Where  it  pleases  Monsieur.  I  have  been 
waiting  until  he  was  sober  enough  to  tell  me." 

The  dull  gilding  of  the  Invalides  dome  showed 
like  bronze  in  the  first  faint  glow  of  the  sunrise. 
Paris  is  a  chaste  delight  in  the  untroubled  dawn,  but 
I  closed  my  eyes  heavily  as  I  was  driven  to  my  hotel. 


XXV 

HUSSAN'S  friendly  tap  did  more  than  the 
wine  I  had  drunk  or  the  late  hours  I  had 
kept  to  make  my  bed  alluring,  and,  being 
got  into  it  with  the  aid  of  a  valet  de  chambre,  I 
gave  orders  that  I  be  left  undisturbed  until  even- 
ing. When  I  awoke  refreshed  and  rang  for  serv- 
ice, my  first  inquiry  was  to  learn  if  M.  Levignet 
had  called  or  sent  word.  Although  it  was  then 
ten  o'clock,  there  was  neither  card  nor  message 
from  Levignet,  and  I  fell  to  wondering  if  he,  too, 
had  been  favoured  with  attentions  similar  to  mine. 
I  grew  to  feel  so  anxious  about  him  that,  as  soon  as 
I  had  eaten  enough  to  appease  an  abominable  hun- 
ger, I  took  a  cab  and  drove  to  his  residence.  He 
was  not  at  home  and  old  Suzel  knew  nothing  of  his 
whereabouts. 

The  queer  creature  was  not  in  the  least  con- 
cerned for  the  safety  of  her  master,  however.  Her 
confidence  in  his  ability  to  take  care  of  himself 
did  not  permit  the  intrusion  of  worry  over  his 
absence.  He  might  be  away  a  week  or  a  month 
in  mysterious  silence  without  affecting  the  calm 
state  of  mind  which  enabled  her  to  say  in  rebuke  of 
my  own  inquietude : 

186 


Marcel    Levignet  187 

"  Je  suis  tranquille,  m'sieu'.  II  est  un  sage  gar- 
con.  N'allez  pas  vous  mettre  martel  en  tete" 

I  drove  to  Henry's  for  a  cup  of  consolation, 
looked  in  at  two  or  three  of  the  principal  cafes, 
made  unprofitable  inquiries  at  the  newspaper  office, 
and  went  moodily  back  to  my  hotel,  only  to 
find  Levignet  sitting  complacently  at  a  table 
in  the  smoking  room,  trifling  with  a  problem  in 
chess. 

"  Ah,  here  you  are !  "  I  exclaimed,  brightening 
at  the  sight  of  him.  "  A  picture  of  cool  impudence, 
considering  the  way  you  left  me  in  the  lurch  last 
night!" 

"  Wait  a  minute,  my  friend.  I  have  just  dis- 
covered the  proper  first  move." 

He  went  on  with  his  problem  in  provoking  self- 
absorption,  until,  with  a  satisfied  "  C'est  ca!  "  he 
played  mate  to  the  black.  Then,  looking  up  at 
me: 

"  So  you  have  come,  faineant!  It  is  an  hour 
that  I  have  waited  for  you  with  no  better  com- 
panion than  these  pieces,  while  you  enjoyed  your- 
self with  folly  of  I  know  not  what  description !  " 

"  The  folly  of  seeking  you  in  your  own  home, 
monsieur." 

He  laughed. 

"  Did  you  see  Suzel?  " 

"  Inevitably." 

"  Did  she  not  tell  you  that  the  surest  way  to  find 


1 88  Marcel    Levignet 

the  excellent  M.  Levignet  is  to  attend  his  coming 
with  composure  ?  " 

"  Something  to  that  effect." 

"  Ah !  if  the  world  were  as  level-headed  as  old 
Suzel,  we  could  dispense  with  many  of  our  ridic- 
ulous institutions.  But  come." 

He  rose  to  his  feet  and  locked  his  arm  in  with 
mine.  "  You  have  wasted  so  much  of  my  time 
that  I  must  spoil  a  capital  narrative  by  reducing  it 
to  a  synopsis.  That  is  an  affliction  to  a  man  of  my 
temperament.  The  omission  of  a  detail  is  a  pain. 
You  cannot  strip  a  tree  of  its  foliage  without  de- 
stroying its  beauty;  bare  branches  whipping  the 
wind  may  be  interesting  to  a  lean  imagination — but 
a  rich  fancy  is  exigent  of  colour.  If  I  give  you  a 
skeleton  in  black  and  white,  blame  yourself.  An 
hour  ago,  I  should  have  clothed  it  with  motley. 
Perhaps  the  Widow  Cliquot  might  lend  some  grace 
to  the  conversation.  Shall  we  have  her  up?  Be- 
sides, you  see,  I  carry  my  stick  to-night.  My  leg 
has  been  playing  antics  with  my  temper  and  I  am 
in  the  humour  for  champagne." 

We  went  up  to  my  room,  followed  presently  by 
a  waiter  with  the  wine,  and  when  we  were  com- 
fortably established,  Levignet,  indifferent  to  my 
impatient  curiosity,  demanded  that  I  tell  him  of 
my  experiences  after  "  the  lights  went  out."  He 
laughed  over  my  capture  of  Hussan,  and  even 
found  amusement  in  the  incident  of  the  assault, 


Marcel    Levignet  189 

thinking  the  entire  proceeding  a  capital  joke  at  my 
expense. 

"  Men  who  have  no  gift  of  divination,"  he  de- 
clared, as  he  smilingly  raised  his  glass  to  enjoy  the 
dance  of  the  bubbles,  "  must  be  the  sport  of  cir- 
cumstance. You  should  cultivate  your  faculties, 
Summerville.  Every  man  has  it  in  his  power  to 
become  clairvoyant,  if  he  will  set  about  it.  You 
must  learn  to  see  effects  when  causes  are  set  in 
motion.  While  you  were  indulging  yourself  with 
the  sensuous  delights  of  the  supper  and  the  com- 
pany, I  was  studying  my  environment,  analysing 
the  jests,  interpreting  the  bizarre  conduct  of  the 
revellers,  looking  into  the  minds  of  the  principals. 
The  going  out  of  the  lights  did  not  take  me  by 
surprise.  I  was  prepared  for  a  fantastic  termina- 
tion of  the  affair.  I  had  kept  my  eye  on  Messa- 
lina. 

"  If  you  were  observing  me,  you  saw  that  I  stag- 
gered to  my  feet  when  the  lady  rose,  and  that 
I  lurched  into  a  position  to  the  right  of  the 
Marquis  that  commanded  the  retreat  of  Messa- 
lina.  The  instant  the  lights  were  turned  off,  I 
understood  that  it  was  merely  a  trick  to  cheat  the 
novices,  for  of  course,  the  others  were  familiar 
enough  with  the  place  to  find  their  way  about  in 
the  dark.  I  gently  took  hold  of  the  robe  of 
Messalina  as  she  passed,  and  quickly  followed, 
having  care  not  to  let  her  feel  the  least  restraint. 


1 90  Marcel   Levignet 

She  led  me  through  a  dark  corridor  and  not  until 
she  opened  the  door  to  a  brilliantly  lighted  room 
was  she  aware  of  my  presence.  She  made  an 
offer  to  close  the  door  again,  but  taking  advantage 
of  my  supposed  intoxication,  I  laughingly  threw 
my  arms  about  her  and,  in  spite  of  her  indignant 
protest,  urged  her  into  the  room  and  closed  the 
door  behind  us.  At  first  she  attempted  to  rally 
me  on  having  missed  the  object  of  my  choice,  and 
advised  me  to  hasten  in  pursuit  of  younger  quarry; 
but  when,  assuring  her  that  my  palate  was  for 
thoroughly  seasoned  fruit,  I  locked  the  door  and 
put  the  key  into  my  pocket,  Messalina  fell  into  a 
fury  compared  with  which  Sarah's  theatrical  fren- 
zies are  tame  as  the  effervescence  of  seltzer  to 
the  sparks  of  an  electric  dynamo.  She  made  a 
dash  for  the  bell-push,  but  I  interposed  in  fine 
good  humour,  and  bade  her  to  indulge  the  whimsy 
of  fate.  The  unreasoning  creature  snatched  up 
from  a  table  one  of  those  hideous  Oriental  daggers 
which  fashion  has  converted  into  paper  cutters  and 
came  at  me  with  such  determined  malevolence  that 
anyone  less  skilled  than  I  in  the  science  of  self- 
defence  must  have  received  a  dangerous  prick.  I 
need  not  tell  you  that  I  disarmed  her  in  the  politest 
manner  possible,  offering  at  the  same  time  to  teach 
her  a  more  artful  use  of  the  weapon.  Finding 
herself  helplessly  confronted  by  a  man  who  knew 
his  metier,  she  had  the  good  sense  to  change  her 


Marcel    Levignet  I9l 

tactics  and  flung  herself  into  a  chair  to  laugh  at 
the  comedy. 

"'For  whom  do  you  mistake  me,  monsieur?' 
she  asked  banteringly,  bringing  the  tips  of  her 
fingers  together  and  favouring  me  with  a  provok- 
ingly  engaging  smile. 

" '  For  no  one  but  yourself,  my  incomparable 
Messalina.  And  for  the  pleasure  of  a  tete-a-tete 
with  you,  I  would  sacrifice  a  regiment  of  the  incon- 
tinent beauties  we  had  at  table.' 

"  '  Very  flattering,  M.  Levignet.' 

"  '  The  simplest  verity,  Madame  Clifton.' 

"  '  Since  we  know  each  other,  we  may  remove 
our  masks.' 

"  '  Mine  has  become  annoying.' 

"  *  Now  then,'  she  said,  as  she  took  off  her  visor, 
4  you  can  tell  me  what  object  you  had  in  following 
me.' 

"  '  Unreservedly,  madame.  For  the  last  five  or 
six  years  I  have  known  you  for  the  most  clever  and 
audacious  among  the  conciliatrices  who  are  so  im- 
portant to  the  social  activities  of  our  modern 
Babylon.  My  admiration  of  the  faultless  manner 
in  which  you  have  conducted  your  delicate  enter- 
prises has  led  me  to  investigate  your  methods;  but 
until  this  evening  I  had  no  idea  of  the  superb 
system  that  has  insured  your  success.  I  desire  to 
pay  homage  to  you.' 

"  Madame  Clifton  regarded  me  through  half- 


192  Marcel    Levignet 

closed  eyes,  with  an  expression  that  would  have 
made  a  less  self-collected  man  uneasy. 

"  *  What  do  you  mean  by  the  word  conclliatrice, 
monsieur?' 

'"  *  Is  it  not  intelligible  to  you,  madame  ? ' 
There  are  many  to  the  same  purport.  Sup- 
pose I  say  entremetteuse — I  am  fond  of  euphe- 
misms. The  more  vulgar  words  do  not  seem  to 
me  to  suit  your  distinction/ 

"  *  You  take  advantage  of  your  present  position 
to  insult  me  in  this  outrageous  fashion !  ' 

"  '  Does  it  insult  you,  madame,  to  compliment 
your  finesse  ? ' 

"  'Do  you  imagine  that  you  will  quit  this  place 
without  being  properly  chastised  for  your  infamous 
conduct  ? ' 

44  '4 1  had  not  taken  that  into  consideration.' 

444You  shall  suffer  for  it!' 

44 1  decided  on  a  bold  stroke.  In  dealing  with 
women,  my  friend,  it  is  necessary  to  part  company 
with  truth.  So  I  said  to  her  in  the  easiest  manner 
imaginable : 

44  4  Dear  Madame  Clifton,  I  had  too  great  an 
esteem  of  your  resourcefulness  and  daring  to  ven- 
ture here  without  precaution.  The  carriage  which 
brought  me  here  was  followed  by  one  containing 
two  members  of  the  secret  police.  At  this  mo- 
ment the  house  is  surrounded.  No  one  can  pass 
from  it  unchallenged.  If  I  do  not  appear  to 


Marcel    Levignet  193 

my  men  at  a  particular  hour,  the  house  will  be 
raided.' 

"  The  adorable  woman  laughed  in  the  most 
thorough  enjoyment  of  my  threat.  I  saw  that  she 
did  not  fear  the  consequences  of  a  raid,  and  my 
quick  mind  leaped  to  a  conclusion.  I  hazarded  a 
shot  which  I  hoped  would  hit  the  centre.  It  was 
the  same  you  fired  at  the  Marquis — probably  in 
the  same  moment — and  it  had  the  same  result.  I 
looked  narrowly  at  her  as  I  said: 

"  'Ah !  you  laugh,  madame,  because  you  know, 
as  I  do,  that  at  the  first  alarm  of  an  assault  on  the 
doors  to  this  house  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  under 
your  clever  protection  would  hasten  to  escape  by 
the  secret  passage  which  connects  this  house  with 
yours ' 

"  Madame  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  '  You  lie !  '  she  screamed  at  me,  with  a  return 
of  the  fury  that  belongs  to  the  highest  tragic 
genius. 

"  *  If  I  do,  madame,'  I  said  suavely,  '  it  does  not 
disturb  the  fact  that  your  house  is  as  carefully 
guarded  as  this  in  which  we  are  now  so  agreeably 
engaged.' 

"  It  grieves  me,  as  I  have  told  you  before,  friend 
Summerville,  to  see  a  criminal  loss  of  nerve.  I 
cannot  bear  to  have  one  of  my  ideals  shattered, 
and  it  irritated  me  to  have  Madame  Clifton  slump 
down  into  her  chair  and  stare  at  me  in  a  pale-faced, 


194  Marcel    Levignet 

frightened  way,  with  nothing  of  fight  left  in  her, 
gasping  out: 

"  *  You  mean  to  ruin  me!  Why?  How  have 
I  injured  you?  Or  what  is  it  you  hope  to  gain? 
Why  have  you  signalled  me  out  for  attack?  If  it 
is  money  you  want ' 

"  *  Pardon  me,  madame.  I  have  so  much  more 
money  than  I  want  that  I  can  afford  to  lend  to  your 
friend  de  Fonteville  a  considerable  sum  and  ask  no 
other  repayment  than  this  privilege  of  talking  with 
you.  You  ask  me  what  I  am.  I  am  an  amateur, 
madame,  in  the  art  of  criminal  anthropotomy,  a 
phrase  you  may  not  understand,  as  it  is  one  of  my 
own  inventing.  You  ask  how  you  have  injured 
me.  I  cannot  answer  that  question  without  put- 
ting myself  in  your  power,  for  if  you  knew  the 
motive  that  actuates  me  you  would  have  the  means 
of  defeating  my  purpose.  I  take  some  spiteful 
pleasure  in  telling  you  that  a  word  from  you  could 
transform  me  from  your  assailant  into  your  de- 
fender; but,  unless  you  can  penetrate  the  secrets 
of  my  heart,  you  cannot  come  to  the  knowledge  of 
that  word.  You  ask  me  what  I  hope  to  gain — 
why  I  have  signalled  you  out  for  attack.  Would 
it  not  be  something  to  my  credit,  madame,  if  I 
could  rid  Paris  of  one  of  the  most  unscrupulously 
clever  priestesses  of  vice  that  has  ever  engaged  in 
the  work  of  corrupting  innocence  ?  ' 

"  Madame  Clifton  had  recovered  something  of 


Marcel    Levignet  195 

her  normal  sang-froid,  and  I  could  see  that  my 
last  remark  had  given  her  the  idea  that  I  was  one 
of  those  abominable  agents  for  the  promotion  of 
public  morals  with  which  pharisaical  society  tricks 
itself.  I  am  sorry  the  caricaturists  have  degraded 
the  word  sardonic.  It  is  one  of  the  most  perfect 
descriptives  in  any  language,  and  there  is  no  other 
adjective  so  well  suited  to  the  kind  of  smile  that 
embodies  at  once  a  sneer,  a  defiance  and  the  admis- 
sion of  guilt.  It  was  a  sardonic  smile  that 
Madame  Clifton  bestowed  upon  me  as  she  re- 
marked : 

"  '  You  are,  then,  an  evangelist,  M.  Levignet?  ' 
* '  There  is  hardly  a  nobler  mission,  madame.' 

"  *  And  you  have  undertaken  the  reformation 
of  Paris?' 

"  '  The  limit  of  a  man's  life  is  three-score  years 
and  ten.  I  have  already  passed  the  meridian.' 

"  '  Exactly,  M.  Levignet.  You  doubtless,  too, 
recognise  the  fact  that  the  cure  of  evil  is  not  in  the 
destruction  of  its  instruments.  Suppose,  for  the 
sake  of  the  argument,  that  you  should  hand  me 
over  to  those  friends  of  yours  who  are  waiting 
outside,  that  they  should  take  me  to  the  Lazare 
and  close  up  my  house,  how  great  an  addition  do 
you  imagine  would  be  made  to  the  virtue  of 
Paris?' 

"  *  I  do  not  think  we  are  in  disagreement  over 
that  particular,  madame.' 


196  Marcel    Levignet 

"  *  Of  course  we  are  not,  monsieur.  As  a  man 
of  the  world  it  is  impossible  you  should  view  social 
problems  invertedly,  after  the  manner  of  the  fanat- 
ical myope.  You  have,  however,  addressed  me 
in  offensive  terms,  as  if  I  were  deserving  of 
especial  reprobation.  Will  you  oblige  me  by  stat- 
ing in  what  way  you  justify  your  insolence? ' 

"  *  I  can  put  it  in  a  nutshell,  madame;  you  use 
your  position  as  a  respected  member  of  society  to 
mask  a  nefarious  profession.' 

"  *  Suppose  that  is  so — which  I  emphatically 
deny — suppose  for  the  sake  of  the  argument,  that 
I  bring  together  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  who 
have  a  mind  to  each  other's  acquaintance ' 

"  *  Say  that  you  bring  them  together  by  art  and 
subterfuge  on  the  one  hand,  and  for  the  price  on 
the  other.' 

" '  Well,  even  if  you  put  it  that  way,  is  my 
method  so  very  different  from  that  of  the  devoted 
mammas  who  have  daughters  to  dispose  of? ' 

"  *  You  would  say,  madame ' 

"  *  Good  heaven  1  M.  Levignet,  why  make  two 
bites  of  a  cherry!  If  you  read  your  paper  this 
morning  you  know  that  the  Madeleine  was  crowded 
the  day  before  to  witness  the  ceremony  by  which 
Madame  de  Barbeude  piously  delivered  her  only 
daughter  into  the  hands  of  that  satyr  of  a  Russian 
prince.  We  all  know  how  Madame  de  Barbeude 
schemed,  planned  and  capered  to  bring  the  affair 


Marcel    Levignet  197 

about,  and  that,  too,  without  the  least  regard  to 
the  fact  that  the  daughter  was  rather  afraid  of  the 
beast  and  certainly  felt  no  inclination  to  marry 
him.  I  saw  a  dozen  smug  dowagers  in  the  church 
who  had  in  similar  ways  made  merchandise  of 
their  daughter's  charms.  Is  not  the  mother  who 
markets  her  daughter  to  a  title  or  a  fortune,  and 
delivers  her  over  to  prostitution  with  a  man  she 
secretly  despises,  a  worse  sort  of  entremetteuse 
than  the  woman  who  only  traffics  in  strangers  to 
her  blood  ?  Is  it  worse  for  me  to  profit  systemati- 
cally by  the  play  of  passions  that  have  the  course 
of  nature  to  excuse  them  than  for  calculating  pa- 
rents to  subvert  natural  sentiments  to  the  sordid 
demand  of  contemptible  ambition?  ' 

"  '  Again,  madame,  I  may  say  we  are  not  in  dis- 
agreement. If  there  were  anything  new  to  me  in 
what  you  have  said,  I  should  make  you  my  most 
admirable  bow  and  retire  overwhelmed  by  a  sense 
of  your  superiority  to  many  of  the  ladies  who 
would  pretend  to  abhor  you,  were  they  aware  of 
your  actual  vocation.  But  it  is  not  a  question 
with  me  whether  you  are  more  or  less  culpable  than 
others  whom  social  convention  excuses.  I  am  not 
sure  but,  as  a  convenience,  you  fill  a  more  important 
place  among  the  agents  of  civilisation  than  does 
the  great  army  of  worldly  mothers  who  make 
wares  of  the  family  fruits.  I  am  not  concerned 
with  the  ethics  of  our  system.  If  the  clergy  can 


198  Marcel    Levignet 

wink  at  abominations  and  sanctify  the  works  of  the 
devil,  we  laymen  who  live  for  the  rewards  and 
pleasures  of  material  life  may  be  allowed  to  fol- 
low our  own  caprices  in  the  choice  of  personal  en- 
joyments. As  a  panderer  to  the  passions  of  our 
society  darlings,  male  and  female,  you  would  be 
entirely  free  from  molestation  by  me.  On  the 
contrary,  as  I  believe  in  the  divine  order,  that 
works  for  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  I  should  be  in- 
clined to  endorse  your  office  as  a  means  to  the  earli- 
est extinction  of  the  corrupt  social  element  which 
now  hinders  the  rise  of  a  wholesome  democracy. 
But  I  view  you  in  the  personal  aspect,  my  dear 
Madame  Clifton.  You  have  done  me  a  personal 
injury;  I  am  vindictive.  If  I  am  bent  on  your 
"  ruin  "  as  you  put  it,  it  is  because  I  feel  a  personal 
resentment  amounting  to  enmity.' 
"  *  In  what  way  have  I  injured  you.' 
"  '  With  your  permission,  we  will  waive  that 
question.  My  answer  to  it  might  seem  to  you 
quixotic.  In  my  eyes  you  are  a  tigress  that  has 
broken  into  a  sheep  fold  and  come  near  to  destroy- 
ing my  ewe  lamb.  I  burn  with  the  spirit  of 
revenge.  You  see,  it  is  not  as  an  agent  of  public 
morals  that  I  confront  you.' 

"  '  And  you  are  going  to  show  me  your  hand?  ' 
"  *  Not  sufficiently  to  let  you  play  against  it  suc- 
cessfully.' 

"  *  Well,  what  is  your  intention? ' 


Marcel    Levignet  199 

"  '  First  to  inspect,  with  your  permission,  the 
private  documents  relating  to  your  "  cases,"  which 
I  am  certain  you  keep.' 

"  '  I  have  no  such  documents.' 

"  '  I  cannot  credit  that  statement.  You  are  too 
practical,  too  business-like,  not  to  have  a  secret 
dossier  for  each  of  your  clients.' 

"  '  And  if  I  have,  do  you  imagine  that  I  will 
show  them  to  you  ?  ' 

"  *  That  is  my  conviction.' 

"'You  are  a  fool!' 

"  Madame  Clifton  rose  to  her  feet  with  the  im- 
perious manner  of  a  veritable  Messalina  ready  to 
dismiss  a  troublesome  suitor  to  the  bow-wows. 

She  started  toward  the  bell-push. 

"  '  Pardon  me,  madame,'  I  said  most  affably  as 
I  stepped  in  front  of  her,  '  you  forget  that  I  am 
master  of  the  situation.'  I  took  out  my  watch. 
*  It  lacks  but  three-quarters  of  an  hour  of  the  time 
appointed  for  my  men  to  attack  the  house.  You 
may  be  sure  they  will  effect  an  entrance.  While  I 
entertain  you  here,  they  will  not  only  arrest  whom- 
soever they  find,  but  they  will  ransack  every  desk, 
escritoire  or  cabinet  that  could  contain  a  scrap  of 
paper.  It  is  for  you  to  choose  between  this  course 
and  the  alternative  I  propose.  There  is  no  escape 
from  one  or  the  other.' 

"  '  You  devil !  '  said  Madame  Clifton  clenching 
her  hands  and  glaring  at  me  in  a  thoroughly  vicious 


200  Marcel    Levignet 

fashion.     There  is  no  denying  that  the  creature  is 

handsome. 

"  *  Fool  or  devil,  madame,  I  am  your  servant. 

Shall  we  proceed  to  the  inventory? ' 

"  *  Is  it  your  intention  to  arrest  me  whether  I 

comply  with  your  demand  or  not?' 

"  *  That  will  depend  upon  the  measure  of  my 

success  in  securing  what  I  want.' 
"'What  papers  do  you  want?' 
"  *  I  must  make  my  own  selection.' 
"  *  And  if  you  do  not  find  what  you  want  ? ' 
"  *  Then  I  shall  certainly  proceed  to  an  arrest.' 
"  *  That  is  infamous,  monsieur.     You  threaten 

me  equally  whether  I  have  the  papers  you  seek  or 

not?' 

"  *  No,  madame ;  I  merely  wish  to  warn  you  that 

it  is  useless  to  try  to  conceal  from  me  the  records 

I  am  sure  you  have.'  " 


XXVI 

MADAME  recognised  the  futility  of  fen- 
cing with  a  person  so  apparently  secure 
of  his  position.     With  her  elbow  rest- 
ing on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  her  strong,  faultless 
teeth  gnawing  her  thumb-nail  as  a  bait  to  her 
impotent  rage,  she  glared  at  me  in  silence  for  some 
moments,  taking  the  measure  of  my  serenity.     Fi- 
nally, she  said  with  cool  discrimination : 

'  I  see  that  you  are  not  actuated  so  much  by  a 
desire  to  get  your  fingers  about  my  throat  as  you 
are  by  the  hope  of  destroying  my  authority  over 
some  particular  person.' 

"  *  To  an  extent  you  are  right.  I  always  ac- 
knowledge a  touch,  madame.' 

"  '  You  are  willing  to  negotiate?  ' 

"  *  Not  to  the  value  of  a  sou,  madame.  It  is 
one  of  my  eccentricities  never  to  purchase  that 
which  I  can  have  for  the  taking.  Pardon  me,  if  I 
again  remind  you  that  you  are  in  danger  of  annoy- 
ance from  my  fellows  in  the  street.' 

"  She  gave  a  shrug  of  resignation  and  rose  to 
her  feet. 

"  *  Very  well,  monsieur,  it  is  your  advantage. 
Tell  me  what  documents  you  require,  and  I  will 
put  them  into  your  hands.' 

201 


202  Marcel    Levignet 

"  *  You  will  oblige  me  by  allowing  me  to  choose 
for  myself.' 

"  '  That  I  must  decline  to  do.' 

"  *  Dear  madame,  we  are  trifling.' 

"  *  I  refuse — positively  refuse.' 

"  She  resumed  her  seat,  folded  her  arms,  eased 
her  shoulders  into  the  comfortable  cushion  of  the 
chair  and  lapsed  into  sullen  defiance.  I  began  to 
fear  that  the  game  was  up  and  felt  uncommonly 
like  a  fool. 

"  But  I  have  made  it  a  rule  to  lose  in  the  same 
good  nature  with  which  I  receive  the  caresses  of 
fortune.  A  great  part  of  the  ills  we  have  to 
suffer  is  the  result  of  a  too  speedy  surrender  to 
what  we  imagine  to  be  inevitable.  Experience 
has  taught  me  that  the  most  gratifying  success 
often  attends  our  refusal  to  acknowledge  a  defeat. 
So  I  only  smiled,  bowed  acquiescence  to  her  de- 
cision, and  drew  a  chair  into  a  position  to  command 
the  bell. 

"  *  As  you  please,  madame,'  I  said,  easily,  sitting 
down  and  crossing  my  obdurate  leg  over  the  other. 
1  You  have  quite  half  an  hour  of  freedom ;  let  us 
employ  the  time  amiably.  If,  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, it  be  my  duty  to  appear  in  an  inchivalrous 
attitude  toward  you,  let  it  be  with  the  memory 
of  a » 

"  She  interrupted  me  sharply,  spoiling  a  very 
pretty  phrase. 


Marcel    Levignet  203 

"  *  There  is  not  the  slightest  evidence  against 
me,  M.  Levignet.' 

"  '  If  that  be  so,  madame,  I  shall  find  myself  in 
an  awkward  predicament.' 

"  *  You  are  right,  there,  monsieur !  The  police 
are  powerless  without  accusing  witnesses.  What 
will  your  charge  amount  to  if  you  can  produce 
no  one  to  testify  to  having  been  victimised  by 
me?' 

"  '  What,  indeed !  I  am  very  unwilling  to  let  my 
imagination  dwell  on  the  consequences  of  a  failure 
to  justify  your  arrest.' 

"  *  I  know  something  of  the  law,  monsieur,'  she 
replied  to  my  cynicism. 

" '  That  goes  without  saying,  dear  madame, 
since  you  have  given  proof  these  many  years  of 
your  ability  to  evade  it.' 

"  *  I  repeat — you  cannot  produce  the  smallest 
particle  of  evidence  against  me.' 

" '  Evidence,  you  must  admit,  is  not  always 
dependent  on  fact.  One  is  sometimes  surprised 
by  the  adroitness  with  which  the  police  manage  to 
make  bricks  without  straw.' 

"  '  At  least  two  persons  must  testify  against  me 
before  a  case  may  be  made  out.' 

"  '  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness.  What  the  law 
demands  the  law  shall  have.  I  can  confront  you 
with  all  the  necessary  accusers.' 

"  '  Name  them.' 


204  Marcel    Levignet 

"  She  flashed  a  vengeful  look  at  me,  ready  to 
rend  her  betrayers. 

"  '  Pardon,  but  you  must  have  the  patience  to 
take  the  incidents  in  their  order.  To-morrow 
morning  you  may  see  and  name  them  for  yourself. 
Your  friend  the  Marquis  de  Fonteville ' 

"  She  bounded  to  her  feet  as  if  discharged  from 
the  chair  by  a  spring. 

"  '  Has  that  miserable ' 

"  She  broke  off  abruptly.  I  was  only  about  to 
make  a  casual  remark  about  the  marquis,  but  I 
saw  that  she  suspected  him  of  having  played  into 
my  hands  against  her.  It  was  a  lucky  hit  and  I 
determined  to  take  advantage  of  it.  I  pretended 
to  be  much  chagrined  over  my  heedlessness,  tak- 
ing care,  however,  to  confirm  her  suspicions  by 
words. 

"  *  I  beg  of  you,  madame,'  I  said  earnestly,  *  not 
to  conclude  that  the  marquis  is  the  instigator  of 
my  proceedings.  Whatever  assistance  he  has 
rendered  me,  I  could  have  acted  with  equal  cer- 
tainty quite  independently  of  him.  His  informa- 
tion has  been  of  the  smallest  importance — merely 
substantiative,  in  no  sense  initiatory.  It  was  with 
difficulty * 


a  t 


The  wretch !  the  miserable  beggar  I ' 
screamed  madame,  as  she  stormed  up  and  down 
the  room  in  a  passion  which  threatened  the  furni- 
ture. *  That  is  what  he  meant  by  telling  me  he 


Marcel   Levignet  205 

could  do  without  me!  That  is  why,  for  the  past 
month,  he  has  failed  to  meet  his  obligation  to  me  1 
He  owes  me  fifty  thousand  francs,  and  he  thinks 
to  get  out  of  paying  it  by  selling  me  to  the  police ! 
But  I  know  how  to  settle  with  vermin  of  his  breed ! 
He  will  play  the  pious,  will  he!  I'll  drive  him 
into  the  sewer !  I'll — I'll ' 

"  She  stopped  in  front  of  me  with  sudden  con- 
centration. 

"  *  M.  Levignet,  you  might  have  threatened  me 
till  the  devil  came  to  fetch  you,  and  I  should  have 
defied  you.  I  am  secure  in  my  position.  No  one 
who  can  say  a  word  to  injure  me  has  either  the 
courage  or  the  impudence  to  go  into  court  jn.  wit- 
ness against  me.  As  for  documents — nothing  I 
have  can  incriminate  me — \  only  fear  your  courts 
because  an  expose  would  spoil  my  business — don't 
flatter  yourself  that  I  have  any  dread  of  a  prison. 
You  haven't  built  the  prison  yet  into  which  I  can 
be  locked.  I  am  not  afraid  of  you.  I  don't  care 
who  your  client  may  be.  The  worst  that  can  be 
said  of  me  is  that  I  have  made  it  convenient  for 
persons  to  follow  their  inclinations.  My  clients 
are  only  too  glad  to  keep  silent,  since  to  speak  is 
to  confess  their  own  infamy.  But  you  have  the 
power  to  annoy  me — to  injure  my  prospects — to 
rob  me  of  social  advantages — and  this  miserable 
marquis — the  dog! — if  I  give  you  the  documents 
you  want,  will  you  withdraw  with  your  police  and 


206  Marcel   Levignet 

leave  me  in  peace  to  settle  with  this  scorpion,  de 
Fonteville  ? ' 

"  *  Madame,  it  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to 
stand  aloof  and  watch  the  play  of  your  genius.' 

"  *  Come,  then.' 

"  Madame  Clifton  crossed  the  room  to  one  of 
the  brocaded  satin  panels  with  which  the  walls 
were  heavily  wainscoted,  pressed  one  of  the 
rosettes,  and  the  panel  flung  open.  She  directed 
me  to  enter,  and  I  found  myself  at  the  head  of  a 
narrow  winding  staircase.  Madame  followed  me 
immediately,  closing  the  panel  behind  her  and  we 
descended  the  stairs,  our  way  being  lighted  by  the 
candle  madame  had  brought  from  the  room.  The 
stairway  led  down  to  the  ground  floor  and  ter- 
minated in  a  small,  square  room  that  had  the 
appearance  of  a  cellar  for  bottled  goods,  with  no 
other  visible  means  of  entrance  or  egress  from  the 
stairs.  But  madame  lifted  a  bottle  from  one  of 
the  shelf-racks  against  the  wall,  thrust  her  hand 
into  the  space,  pressed  a  spring  and  the  next 
moment  the  series  of  shelves  with  their  bottles 
opened  like  a  door  disclosing  the  entrance  to  a  dark 
passage.  I  am  not  without  caution  and  I  hesitated 
to  step  into  a  dungeon  that  might,  for  anything  I 
could  see  to  the  contrary,  be  the  mouth  of  a  bot- 
tomless pit.  Madame  gave  a  little  scornful  laugh, 
made  an  impertinent  jest  in  contempt  of  my  cour- 
age, and  touched  a  lever.  The  passage  was  at 


Marcel    Levignet  207 

once  flooded  with  electric  light  and,  instead  of  a 
dark,  chilled  tunnel,  I  found  a  well-carpeted, 
prettily  ornamented  corridor,  the  walls  of  which 
were  covered  with  really  artistic,  though  not 
scrupulously  chaste  frescoes.  We  went  along  this 
passage,  which  I  did  not  doubt  was  the  *  secret 
passage '  for  the  distance  of  fifty  or  sixty  yards, 
and  came  to  what  seemed  to  be  a  dead  wall,  on 
which,  as  a  part  of  the  fresco  scheme,  was  painted 
a  satyr  who  seemed  to  mock  us  with  libidinous 
leer.  But  this  wall  gave  way  to  the  magic  of 
madame's  touch,  and  after  mounting  stairs  similar 
to  those  by  which  we  had  descended,  and  passing 
two  other  secret  panels,  we  came  into  a  charming 
boudoir  that  I  saw  at  a  glance  must  be  madame's 
official  cabinet.  There  is  nothing  like  the  pursuit 
of  vice  to  sharpen  ingenuity,  my  dear  Summerville. 
I  venture  to  say  that  there  is  not  in  all  Paris  a 
more  cleverly  devised  system  of  secrecy  than  that 
which  Madame  Clifton  has  provided  for  the  se- 
curity of  her  aristocratic  clientele.  I  could  not 
withhold  from  her  an  expression  of  my  admiration. 
I  gave  it  as  my  opinion  that  petticoats  alone  pre- 
vented her  becoming  the  nonpareil  of  prime  min- 
isters. 

"  'I  should  think,  monsieur,'  she  rejoined  with 
a  misprising  smile,  '  that  most  of  our  ministers 
only  laid  aside  petticoats  during  their  term  of 
office.' 


2o8  Marcel   Levignet 

"  I,  myself,  have  so  incjifferent  a  regard  for 
the  men  who  undertake  our  government,  that  I 
chose  to  take  her  statement  seriously;  but,  as  I  was 
eager  to  get  my  fingers  on  the  secret  archives  of  the 
establishment,  I  refrained  from  saying  some  good 
things  that  popped  into  my  mind,  and  reminded 
her  that  time  was  pressing  us  to  haste. 

"  After  again  demanding  of  me  a  promise  not 
to  molest  her  when  she  had  served  my  purpose, 
Madame  Clifton  opened  what  had  seemed  to  be 
an  integral  part  of  the  marble  mantelpiece  and 
took  from  the  cache  a  considerable  bundle  of  care- 
fully tied  papers.  Giving  this  packet  to  me,  she 
said: 

"  *  These  papers  are  all  endorsed  on  the  back 
with  the  names  of  the  persons  to  whom  they  relate, 
so  that  you  will  have  no  excuse  for  looking  into 
any  other  than  the  one  you  are  after.  Take  the 
one  you  want  without  dwelling  too  much  on  the 
endorsement  of  the  others.' 

"  '  Madame,  you  may  trust  me  not  to  see  more 
than  is  necessary.' 

"  I  undid  the  packet  and  began  looking  over 
the  papers.  Mon  Dieul  my  friend,  what  mater- 
ial for  the  front  page  of  my  paper!  The  revolu- 
tion of  '93  did  not  overturn  France  half  as  effec- 
tually as  those  neatly  endorsed  papers  could 
bouleverser  Paris  under  journalistic  impulsion.  I 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  astonishment. 


Marcel    Levignet  209 

'  Madame,'  I  exclaimed  in  undisguised  ad- 
miration, *  you  hold  all  Paris  in  the  palm  of  your 
hand/ 

"  She  laughed  appreciatively,  but  said  rebuk- 
ingly,  *  Please  confine  your  attention  to  the  im- 
mediate object  of  your  search.' 

"  Even  as  she  spoke  my  eye  lighted  on  the  name 
that  sent  a  quiver  through  my  nerves.  It  sud- 
denly, and  for  the  first  time,  occurred  to  me  that 
by  taking  the  papers,  I  would  by  their  very 
absence  reveal  to  her  the  case  in  which  I  was  inter- 
ested. I  passed  by  the  particular  paper  and  ner- 
vously turned  over  the  others,  while  I  tried  to 
think  of  a  plan  to  circumvent  her.  Suddenly  the 
idea  came  to  me.  I  put  the  papers  together  in  a 
pile,  and  turned  to  look  threateningly  at  her. 

"  '  Madame,  the  document  for  which  I  seek  is 
not  in  this  collection.  You  are  trifling  with  me. 
I  demand  to  see  the  others.' 

" 4  There  are  no  others,  I  assure  you,  M. 
Levignet.' 

"  *  I  am  not  to  be  deceived,  madame,'  I  said,  in 
well-simulated  anger.  '  There  are  barely  ten 
minutes  left  to  you  in  which  to  comply  with  my 
demand.  If  you  delay,  you  will  be  a  prisoner,  and 
my  police  will  find  the  missing  documents,  if  we 
have  to  demolish  the  two  buildings,  brick  by  brick 
to  find  the  hiding-place.  And  let  me  tell  you, 
madame,  that  you  are  sadly  mistaken  in  the  as- 


210  Marcel    Levignet 

sumption  that  I  have  no  evidence  of  your  criminal 
guilt.  If  you  go  from  this  house  in  my  custody 
you  will  pass  the  rest  of  your  life  in  a  prison.' 

"  I  contrived,  as  I  spoke,  to  take  from  my  pocket 
the  phial  of  chloroform,  which  you  know  I  am 
never  without,  and,  employing  angry  movements  to 
mask  my  actions,  I  saturated  my  handkerchief  with 
the  liquid.  When,  therefore,  she  came  hurrying 
after  me  as  I  went  toward  a  window,  and  began 
earnestly  protesting  her  good  faith,  I  was  ready 
for  her.  I  threw  my  arm  about  her  neck,  drew 
her  head  tight  against  my  breast  and,  in  spite  of 
her  furious  struggles,  held  the  wet  handkerchief  to 
her  mouth  and  nose  until  she  was  soothed  into 
docility.  I  did  not  relax  my  devotion  to  her  be- 
fore I  had  persuaded  her  to  the  most  charming 
complacency,  and  placed  her  decorously  and  com- 
fortably on  a  divan.  I  then  took  up  the  packet 
of  papers,  wrapped  it  in  the  folds  of  the  domino 
which  I  had  removed,  closed  the  door  to  the 
cache,  set  the  room  in  order,  opened  the  only  door 
to  the  boudoir  and  went  out.  I  soon  found  the 
main  stairway,  and  went  down.  There  was  a  dim 
light  in  the  hall  and,  nodding  asleep  in  a  chair  in 
the  vestibule,  was  a  lackey.  I  tried  the  front  door, 
but  could  not  open  it.  I  roused  the  lackey. 

"  *  Quick  1  open  the  door.  Madame  is  taken 
suddenly  ill  in  her  boudoir.  I  am  going  for  a  phy- 
sician. Send  someone  to  her  at  once.' 


Marcel    Levignet  2 1 1 

'  The  fellow,  wakened  from  his  sleep  in  such 
an  imperious  manner,  was  confused  and  alarmed. 
Babbling  some  question  as  to  the  nature  of 
madame's  illness,  to  which  I  impatiently  replied, 
he  opened  the  door  and  I  rushed  out,  bare-headed, 
hugging  the  domino  in  my  arms,  filled  with  the 
keen,  exulting  joy  of  a  gamin  safely  escaping  from 
the  consequences  of  a  successful  prank.  I  flung  my- 
self, laughing,  into  the  first  cab  I  came  upon,  drove 
to  my  office  and  in  the  seclusion  of  my  sanctum 
opened  my  precious  bundle  of  extraordinary  docu- 
ments. 

"  Ah,  Summerville  I  Summerville !  You  have 
imagination;  you  are  not  without  sentiment.  I 
take  one  of  the  number  tremblingly  in  my  hand. 
I  look  it  through.  It  is  all  complete.  The  dates 
— the  facts — two  comprising  letters  in  a  dear 
handwriting — piteous  letters — letters  to  fill  the 
eyes  with  tears! — In  a  minute  they  are  ablaze — 
the  flames  blot  them  into  ashes — black,  crisp  ashes 
that  crackle  between  my  fingers  that  clutch  and 
crumble  them  into  nothingness !  Ashes  that  I  toss 
into  the  air,  and  laugh — laugh  like  a  madman  as 
they  descend  upon  me,  sprinkling  my  hair  and  my 
beard,  falling  about  me  like  a  black  rain — through 
which  the  first  light  of  the  morning  streams  so  that 
I  fancy  a  transfiguration — a  soul  rising  clear  and 
pure  and  luminous  out  of  the  murk  and  deathli- 
ness!  You  understand  I  you  understand,  my 


212  Marcel    Levignet 

friend !  Fill  my  glass — and  yours.  Let  us  drink ! 
Ah,  let  us  drink!  You  know  to  whom.  'Toin- 
ette!  'Toinette!" 

He  emptied  the  full  glass  at  a  gulp,  and  rose  to 
his  feet. 

In  moments  of  joyous  enthusiasm  like  this,  there 
is  an  indefinable  beauty  in  Levignet's  face — a 
spiritual  something — a  childish  innocence,  one 
might  say,  that  thrills  friendship  into  affection.  I 
take  it  as  an  evidence  of  some  merit  in  me  that  I 
loved  Levignet  as  he  stood  there,  the  down-glow 
of  the  light  making  a  sort  of  halo  about  his  fine 
head  as  it  was  reflected  from  the  mass  of  his  whit- 
ening hair. 

"  I  must  be  off  I  My  time  is  too  valuable  to 
fling  away  on  you.  I  have  things  to  do." 

"  I  congratulate  you  on  having  done  with  the 
Clifton,  at  any  rate." 

"Done  with  her!"  Levignet  exclaimed,  with 
quick  transition  to  passionate  vehemence.  "  I 
have  but  begun  with  her.  I  shall  not  have  done 
with  her  until  I  see  her " 

He  stopped  in  the  midst  of  his  speech,  with  his 
hand  outstretched,  and  a  singular  change  came 
over  his  face.  A  look  of  wonderment  and  horror 
— a  fearsome,  intense  scrutiny,  a  fixity  of  regard 
like  one  gazing  spellbound  at  something  as  dread- 
ful as  it  is  fascinating.  It  lasted  but  a  minute,  and 
he  drew  his  hand  over  his  eyes  slowly,  as  he  said 


Marcel    Levignet  213 

in  a  tone  in  which  there  was  an  odd  mixture  of  awe 
and  levity: 

"  Mon  Dieu !  how  curious !  Do  you  know, 
Summerville,  I  had  a  vision  as  vivid  as  reality,  in 
which  I  saw  Madame  Clifton  bound  to  a  stake  and 
myself  holding  a  lighted  torch  to  the  fagots  piled 
around  her.  I  wonder,  if  I  would  do  such  a 
thing?" 

He  laughed  and  held  out  his  hand  to  me. 

"  Well,  good-bye.  Fortunately  we  have 
abolished  the  stake  in  civilised  countries.  You 
Americans  have  the  surviving  monoply.  It  isn't 
likely  that  I  shall  have  to  pursue  Madame  Clifton 
to  your  country.  I'll  see  you  again  within  twenty- 
four  hours." 

I  followed  him  into  the  hall,  but  he  forbade  me 
going  down  the  stairs  with  him.  As  we  parted, 
I  asked  the  question  with  which  my  curiosity  was 
piqued. 

"  Did  you  burn  all  the  documents  you  cap- 
tured?" ' 

He  laughed,  and  went  down  several  steps  before 
looking  over  his  shoulder  at  me  to  reply  crypti- 
cally : 

"  I  could  have  my  pick  of  Cabinet  portfolios  to- 
morrow if  I  had  not  lost  my  taste  for  politics." 


XXVII 

ETIGNET  went  directly  home  on  leaving  me, 
and  was  not  greatly  surprised  to  find  the 
carriage  of  de  Fonteville  standing  in  front 
of  his  door.  On  entering  the  house,  he  was  in- 
formed by  Suzel  that  not  only  de  Fonteville,  but 
Madame  Clifton  also  was  waiting  to  see  him. 

"  For  the  first  time  in  my  life,"  Levignet  said 
laughingly,  in  relating  the  matter  to  me,  "  I  felt 
a  sort  of  trepidation  on  entering  my  own  salon.  I 
should  have  welcomed  either  of  them  alone,  but 
the  two  in  combination  promised  me  a  bad  quarter 
of  an  hour." 

There  is  but  one  person  in  the  world  who  would 
presume  to  charge  Levignet  with  timidity,  and  that 
person  is  Levignet  himself. 

He  advanced  into  the  room,  affably  saluting  his 
unfriendly  guests  in  quiet  enjoyment  of  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  had  not  lost  in  their  last  en- 
counter. Madame  and  the  Marquis,  who  had 
been  sitting  at  opposite  ends  of  the  room,  rose  as 
he  entered. 

"  Do  I  owe  the  honour  of  this  visit  to  the  fact 
that  you  have  come  to  return  me  my  hat?  "  asked 
Levignet,  to  set  the  ball  rolling,  as  he  expressed 
it  to  me. 

He  expected  an  explosion,  but  the  Marquis  was 
214 


Marcel    Levignet  215 

keyed  to  diplomatic  repression  and  spoke  by  the 
book. 

"  Madame  Clifton  is  under  the  impression,  M. 
Levignet,  that  you  charge  me  with  having  con- 
spired with  you  to  her  injury." 

"  Madame  Clifton  does  little  credit  to  my  judg- 
ment in  the  selection  of  confederates,  Monsieur  le 
Marquis,"  said  Levignet,  bowing. 

"  You  deny  that  you  named  him  as  one  of  those 
who  were  to  appear  against  me  1  "  Madame  Clif- 
ton interjected  hotly. 

"  I  admit  that  you  jumped  to  a  conclusion, 
madame,  and  that  I  took  advantage  of  your  mis- 
take to  further  my  interests.  It  was  you  who  ac- 
cused the  Marquis  of  perfidy,  not  I." 

Madame  Clifton,  already  convinced,  no  doubt, 
by  the  Marquis  that  she  had  been  befooled  by 
Levignet  and  her  own  impetuous  temper,  was  the 
more  infuriated  against  Levignet  for  the  knowl- 
edge that  she  had  been  so  easily  cheated. 

"  Let  that  be  as  it  may,  you  brutally  assaulted 
me,  chloroformed  and  robbed  me!  We  come  to 
demand  the  restitution  of  these  papers!  And  you 
shall  pay  for  the  outrage  1  " 

"  Has  madame — has  the  Marquis,"  Levignet 
bowed  from  one  to  the  other  as  he  spoke,  "  suffi- 
ciently considered  the  matter?  Does  it  seem 
likely  that  I  will  restore  what  I  took  infinite  pains 
and  much  risk  to  secure  ?  " 


216  Marcel    Levignet 

"  That  has  been  considered,  monsieur,"  said  the 
Marquis  briefly. 

"  Then  I  assume  that  madame  and  the  Marquis 
count  on  something  surer  than  persuasion  for  a  re- 
covery of  the  property  ?  " 

"  Emphatically,"  said  Madame  Clifton,  in  a 
tone  suited  to  the  word. 

"  The  alternative  to  compliance  on  my  part  is 
force  on  yours,  I  may  venture  to  suggest,  Mar- 
quis?" 

"  Precisely,  M.  Levignet." 

Levignet  smiled,  made  an  amusingly  deprecatory 
gesture,  and  sat  down. 

"Very  well,  Marquis;  we  may  as  well  begin 
with  the  alternative.  I  am  quite  at  your  disposal." 

Madame  Clifton  spoke  out  sharply,  imperiously. 

"Gaspard!" 

One  of  her  servants,  a  lusty  fellow  dressed  in 
the  livery  of  a  footman,  stepped  from  a  curtained 
corner  of  the  room. 

"  Upon  my  word !  "  said  Levignet,  "  I  did  not 
know  that  my  salon  lent  itself  so  capitally  to  am- 
buscades. Are  there  others,  M.  le  Marquis  ?  " 

"  One  other,  M.  Levignet,  to  prevent  the  intru- 
sion of  your  housekeeper." 

'  You  may  as  well  dismiss  him,  or  call  him  to 
your  service  here,  since  it  is  a  prime  virtue  of  my 
excellent  Suzel  never  to  intrude.  You  propose, 
M.  le  Marquis " 


Marcel    Levignet  217 

"  Will  you  deliver  up  the  papers  you  stole  from 
madame?  " 

"  I  have  not  yet  finished  the  perusal  of  them, 
Marquis." 

The  Marquis  drew  a  pistol  from  his  pocket  and 
presented  it  at  Levignet  as  Madame  Clifton  ad- 
dressed the  servant. 

"  Tie  him  in  the  chair,  Gaspard." 

"  You  can  avoid  accident  by  submitting  quietly, 
monsieur,"  said  the  Marquis. 

"  Give  yourself  no  concern,  Marquis.  I  am  a 
patron  of  the  Gaiete.  I  have  a  taste  for  opera 
bouffe.  To  be  trussed  in  my  own  armchair  in  the 
quiet  of  my  own  salon  for  the  entertainment  of  a 
lady  of  madame's  social  distinction  and  a  gentle- 
man of  the  Marquis  de  Fonteville's  august  lineage, 
is  such  delightful  fooling  that  I  shall  recommend 
it  to  my  friend  Aubert  for  treatment.  You  came 
remarkably  well  prepared  for  amateurs,  I  give  you 
my  word !  " 

Levignet  suffered  himself  to  be  bound  without 
resistance,  and  the  Marquis  returned  the  pistol  to 
his  pocket. 

"  It  amuses  you,  does  it !  "  exclaimed  Madame 
Clifton,  as  Levignet  continued  to  jest,  and  ad- 
vanced upon  him  with  a  dog-whip  in  her  hand. 
"  You  shall  have  the  full  benefit  of  the  humour." 

She  struck  him  a  number  of  sharp  blows  about 
the  arms  and  shoulders,  but  as  he  only  laughed  at 


2i8  Marcel    Levignet 

her,  she  savagely  changed  her  tactics  and  began 
viciously  lashing  his  head  and  face,  one  of  the 
blows  inflicting  a  wound  on  the  cheek  from  which 
the  blood  flowed. 

"  Will  you  not  try  your  hand  at  it,  Marquis?  " 
said  Levignet.  "  Or  are  you,  too,  only  a  lackey 
to  stand  idly  looking  on  in  envy  of  your  mistress? 
Come;  be  equal  to  the  name  you  use.  Do  some- 
thing worthy  of  a  Nero.  Even  the  last  and  low- 
est of  the  de  Fonteville's  should  not  fear  to  strike 
a  man  bound  as  securely  as  I  am." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  Marquis,  and  going  up 
to  Madame  Clifton,  who  was  panting  from  her 
exertion  and  fury,  took  the  whip  from  her  hand 
and  struck  Levignet  twice  over  the  mouth  with  it. 

He  would  have  struck  again,  but  the  fellow 
Gaspard  caught  his  arm  and  snatched  away  the 
whip. 

"  I  did  not  agree  to  that,  Monsieur  le  Mar- 
quis," he  said.  "  My  father  was  M.  Levignet's 
comrade  at  Sedan." 

"  Thank  you,  friend  Gaspard;  I  shall  remember, 
you.  Marquis,  you  owed  me  a  trifle  of  money. 
Those  two  blows  have  wiped  out  that  obligation 
and  left  me  heavily  your  debtor.  It  is  a  way  with 
the  Levignets  never  to  leave  a  debt  unpaid." 

The  Marquis,  instead  of  being  further  enraged 
by  the  interference  of  the  lackey,  seemed  to  have 
been  brought  to  his  senses  by  it.  That  he  had 


Marcel    Levignet  219 

struck  Levignet  in  a  sort  of  unconscious  frenzy 
was  evident  in  his  shamefacedly  exculpatory 
words,  "It  was  the  sight  of  the  blood";  and  it 
was  the  general  opinion  in  Paris  that  there  was 
something  of  a  de  Sade  in  this  decadent  Marquis. 

He  turned  suddenly  to  Madame  Clifton,  who 
stood  in  smiling  enjoyment  of  Levignet's  deplor- 
able plight  and  said  roughly: 

"  Let's  get  about  our  business." 

They  started  together  for  the  door. 

"  If,"  said  Levignet  indifferently,  "  your  busi- 
ness is  to  ransack  my  house  for  those  papers,  it  will 
prove  a  waste  of  your  energies." 

"  The  man  is  a  liar  by  profession,"  exclaimed 
madame,  urging  on  the  Marquis,  who  was  inclined 
to  believe  Levignet's  statement. 

"  You  can  easily  satisfy  yourself  that  I  do  not 
lie.  There  is  a  telephone  in  my  little  work-room 
— first  door  to  the  left  as  you  go  out.  Call  up  the 
Prefect  of  Police.  Ask  him  if  I  left  a  sealed  packet 
in  his  charge  this  morning." 

"  Bah !  a  trick ! — a  subterfuge !  If  he  left  a 
packet  with  the  Prefect,  that  is  the  best  of  reasons 
why  we  should  look  for  the  packet  here." 

She  again  urged  the  doubtful  Marquis  toward 
the  door. 

"  Suzel  will  tell  you,  Marquis,  that  this  my  first 
appearance  in  the  house  since  I  left  it  in  your  com- 
pany. The  papers  are  in  the  hands  of  the  prefect, 


220  Marcel    Levignet 

together  with  a  memorandum  as  to  when  and  how 
he  is  to  use  them." 

"  Levignet,"  declared  Madame  Clifton,  coming 
in  front  of  him,  "  you  may  as  well  understand  me. 
You  are  not  dealing  with  one  of  your  bourgeois 
imbeciles.  You  are  in  my  power,  and  I'll  use  that 
power  even  to  the  extent  of  putting  you  forever  out 
of  the  way,  if  necessary.  Now,  mark  my  words. 
I  shall  not  leave  this  house  without  those  papers — 
or  you.  It  is  past  midnight.  The  street  is  de- 
serted. There  is  no  one  but  your  crazy  old  house- 
keeper from  whom  you  can  hope  for  assistance. 
Very  well.  If  you  do  not  deliver  those  papers  you 
will  be  gagged  and  put  bound  into  my  carriage  and 
taken  to  my  house.  You  know  something  of  the 
conveniences  there  for  affairs  that  require  privacy. 
You  will  be  my  prisoner,"  then,  bending  down  so 
that  the  lackey  could  not  hear  the  final  words, 
hissed  into  his  ear — "  until  you  disappear.  You 
understand?  Disappear!  What  is  your  deci- 
sion ?  "  she  asked  aloud,  as  she  stood  erect,  regard- 
ing him  with  a  look  of  malicious  satisfaction. 

"  Madame,"  Levignet  answered,  "  I  have  so 
great  an  opinion  of  your  audacious  cleverness  that 
I  should  not  presume  to  match  my  own  small 
ability  against  it.  Therefore,  I  took  the  precau- 
tion to  fortify  my  weakness.  I  had  wit  enough  to 
anticipate  that  you  would  take  prompt  action  to 
avenge  the  slight  I  put  upon  you  last  night.  I 


Marcel    Levignet  221 

could  not  foresee  what  would  be  your  plan  of  re- 
prisal, but  I  imagined  that  my  life  might  be  in 
danger  at  the  hands  of  some  miscreant  who,  for  a 
few  francs,  would  cheerfully  crack  my  skull  or  per- 
forate my  breast;  and  I  knew  that  my  private 
apartments  are  not  proof  against  the  burglar 
brotherhood.  So  I  lost  no  time  in  putting  into 
the  hands  of  my  friend,  the  Prefect,  the  papers  you 
graciously  allowed  me  to  take  and — a  moment  of 
patience,  dear  madame — the  memorandum  of 
which  you  have  not  done  me  the  honour  to  take 
account.  That  memorandum,  Marquis,"  Levignet 
continued,  turning  to  de  Fonteville  as  if  the  matter 
were  of  especial  interest  to  him,  "  while  it  cannot 
protect  me  from  the  hand  of  an  assassin,  will  cer- 
tainly provide  a  handsome  public  compensation  for 
my  death.  If  once  in  every  twenty- four  hours, 
namely,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  I  do  not 
personally  assure  my  friend  the  Prefect  that  my 
vitality  still  has  a  market  value,  he  will  break  the 
seal  of  the  packet  and  acquaint  himself  with  its 
contents.  The  first  thing  that  will  greet  his  eye 
is  a  composition  of  my  own,  in  which,  madame, — 
in  which,  Marquis, — I  have  endeavoured  in  my 
imperfect  way  to  do  justice  to  your  respective 
merits.  I  am  not  an  artist  in  the  literary  analysis 
of  character,  but  my  friend  the  Prefect  is  not  ex- 
igent of  style  if  the  matter  be  instructive." 

"  I  do  not  believe  a  word  the  shuffler  has  said, 


222  Marcel    Levignet 

Marquis;  it  is  a  poor  invention  to  cheat  us."     She 
took  hold  of  his  arm.     "  Let  us  begin." 

14  But  if  it  should  be  true?  "  objected  the  Mar- 
quis. 

"  Five  minutes  at  the  telephone  will  decide  the 
point,"  said  Levignet.  "  If  you  will  bear  me  into 
the  room,  I  will  put  questions  to  the  Prefect  and 
you  yourself  may  receive  the  answers." 

"You  devil!"  exclaimed  Madame  Clifton,  in 
a  burst  of  rage  that  proved  how  thoroughly  she 
was  convinced  of  the  truth  of  Levignet's  statement. 
"  What  do  you  intend  doing  with  those  papers?  " 

"  Chance  must  be  my  teacher  as  she  has  ever 
been  my  friend." 

"  Well,  then,  what  is  the  price  you  demand  for 
the  return  of  my  property?  " 

"  More,  madame,  than  you  will  care  to  pay." 

"  Name  the  figures." 

"  It  cannot  be  stated  in  figures." 

"  I  think  we  can  gain  nothing  by  lingering  here," 
said  de  Fonteville. 

"  Nor  by  taking  me  with  you,"  Levignet  sup- 
plemented. 

De  Fonteville  took  from  his  breast  pocket  a  flexi- 
ble leather  letter  case,  and  produced  from  it  a 
cheque.  As  he  unfolded  it,  he  said, 

'  You  gave  me  a  cheque  last  night,  M.  Le- 
vignet." 

"  I  did,"  assented  Levignet. 


Marcel    Levignet  223 

"  I  received  it  in  good  faith;  I  regret  to  find  it 
was  not  given  in  the  same  spirit." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  Marquis." 

"  Payment  was  refused  at  the  bank  this  morn- 
ing, on  the  ground  that  the  signature  is  not  gen- 
uine." He  held  the  cheque  before  Levignet,  folded 
in  a  way  to  display  the  signature  only. 

"  That  is  my  signature,  Marquis.  I  don't  un- 
derstand why  it  was  questioned." 

"  Look  at  it  attentively.  You  are  sure  it  is 
quite  in  your  usual  style  of  writing  your  name  to 
cheques?  " 

"Absolutely.  There  was  some  mistake.  Pos- 
sibly the  cashier " 

"You  positively  identify  the  cheque?" 

"The  signature,  yes;  I  do  not  see  the  face  of 
the  cheque." 

"There  is  nothing  wrong  with  the  signature?  " 

"  As  I  have  said,  Marquis,  it  is  my  signature. 
You  need  have  no  scruples  to  present  it  again.  I 
assure  you  it  will  be  honoured." 

"  Possibly,"  said  the  Marquis,  with  apparent 
unconcern,  "  the  body  of  the  cheque  did  not  strike 
the  cashier  as  being  in  your  familiar  hand."  He 
held  the  cheque  fully  before  Levignet's  eyes. 

"  The  handwriting  is  undoubtedly  mine,  Mar- 
quis. No,  by  the  Virgin,  it  is  not  1  "  Levignet 
cried  with  sudden  energy.  "  The  cheque  I  gave 
you  was  for  ten  thousand  francs.  This  calls  for 


224  Marcel    Levignet 

one  hundred  thousand!  It  is  a  forgery — an 
abominable  forgery !  " 

"  Pardon  me,  monsieur,"  said  de  Fonteville, 
coolly  refolding  the  cheque  and  tucking  it  into  a 
pocket  of  the  leather  case.  "  You  have  assured  me 
of  its  genuineness."  He  smiled,  mockingly  exultant. 

"  You  had  not,  then,  really  presented  it  at  the 
bank?" 

"  No,  monsieur.  I  am  now  satisfied  to  make 
the  experiment." 

"  The  person  who  tenders  that  cheque  for  pay- 
ment will  be  arrested  on  the  spot." 

"  Naturally,  if  the  bank  be  notified  in  time.  It 
is  necessary  to  provide  against  that,  monsieur. 
You  are  bound  securely  enough.  All  that  is 
wanting  is  a  gag.  Gaspard,  hand  me  the  scarf 
from  that  table.  I  think  we  may  arrange  for 
your  silence  for  twelve  hours  or  so." 

"  You  forget,  Marquis,  that  if  I  am  not  at  the 
Prefecture  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  that 
packet  will  be  opened  and  the  police  will " 

"  I  must  take  that  risk,  monsieur." 

"Yes;  we  will  take  that  risk,  Monsieur  Le- 
vignet," said  madame,  who  had  listened  to  the  con- 
versation with  an  occasional  chuckle,  evidently 
divining  the  Marquis'  purpose  more  readily  than 
Levignet  was  able  to  penetrate  it. 

"  One  word,  Marquis,"  urged  Levignet,  as  the 
scarf  was  brought  against  his  mouth. 


Marcel   Levignet  225 

"  Our  time  is  limited,  monsieur,"  said  the  Mar- 
quis, proceeding  with  his  task.  "  Sorry  not  to 
oblige  you  with  further  talk, — but  the  conference 
is  over.  Call  Henri,"  he  directed  Gaspard,  who 
opened  the  door  and  beckoned  Henri  in  from  the 
hall. 

'"  What  have  you  done  with  the  old  woman?  " 
"  She  is  locked  in  her  room,  M.  le  Marquis." 
"  Very  well.     There,  monsieur,  I  think  you  are 
secure  for  the  night,  and  I  hope  you  will  have 
pleasant  dreams.     Madame,  I  am  at  your  service. 
Gaspard,  you  will  turn  out  lights  and  close  doors 
after  us.     Good-night,  Monsieur  Levignet." 

Madame  Clifton  took  his  arm  and  they  went 
out  laughing.  Levignet  hoped  for  something 
from  Gaspard,  but  the  fellow  silently  executed  his 
orders,  and  with  Henri  followed  their  mistress, 
slamming  the  front  door  behind  them,  and  pres- 
ently the  carriage  rolled  away,  the  clip-clop  of 
the  horses'  feet  on  the  asphalt  seeming  to  mock 
Levignet  as  he  listened  to  its  gradual  subsidence. 


XVIII 

FINDING  his  efforts  to  release  himself  un- 
availing, Levignet  philosophically  resigned 
himself  to  the  painful  waiting  for  deliver- 
ance. He  began  reviewing  the  incidents  and  talk 
of  the  past  half  hour,  greatly  out  of  humour  with 
himself  and  humiliatingly  aware  that  he  had 
allowed  himself,  stupidly  as  he  felt,  to  be  beaten 
at  every  point.  But  he  hugged  as  a  consolation 
the  certainty  that  if  he  could  not  get  to  the  bank 
in  time  to  stop  payment  of  the  forged  cheque, 
neither  could  he  be  at  the  Prefecture  to  prevent 
the  opening  of  the  packet  and  the  consequent 
operations  of  the  police  against  Madame  Clifton 
and  the  Marquis.  He  flattered  himself  that  the  pair 
had  overreached  themselves  and  were  really  play- 
ing into  his  hand  after  all.  He  laughed  in  spite 
of  his  present  discomfiture  as  he  thought  of  the 
care  he  had  taken  in  his  "  composition  "  to  make 
it  impossible  for  Madame  Clifton  to  evade  the  de- 
tectives by  any  such  trick  as  the  disguise  she  had 
assumed  when  she  was  hiding  with  'Toinette  to 
escape  from  the  supposed  danger  of  the  Chartier 
affair.  Fate  has  a  droll  way  of  working  out  her 
vengeance.  The  mercenary  greed  of  the  Mar- 

226 


Marcel    Levignet  227 

quis  was  to  be  the  means  of  terminating  the  career 
of  Madame  Clifton,  and  they  were  both  stepping 
into  the  trap  they  had  set  for  themselves!  Le- 
vignet was  beginning  to  enjoy  his  situation,  not- 
withstanding his  physical  aches  and  pains,  when  a 
sudden  flash  of  intelligence  dispersed  his  rosy 
fancies. 

"  Fool  that  I  am !  "  He  writhed  in  his  bonds 
and  tried  repeatedly  to  cry  out,  although  the  thick 
folds  of  the  scarf  converted  the  sounds  into  a  series 
of  frantic  groans. 

It  was  all  clear  to  him  now.  The  Marquis  had 
abandoned  his  criminal  intention  of  presenting  the 
forged  cheque  for  payment.  He  had  been  so  par- 
ticular in  questioning  Levignet  as  to  the  apparent 
genuineness  of  the  signature  and  writing  for  quite 
another  purpose !  His  new  scheme  was  to  forge 
an  order  on  the  Prefect  for  the  delivery  of  the 
packet  to  bearer !  There  could  be  no  doubt  about 
that.  In  the  morning,  even  to-night,  the  order 
would  be  presented,  the  Prefect,  not  having  been 
instructed  to  the  contrary,  would  see  no  good  rea- 
son for  ignoring  the  demand,  which  would  doubt- 
less declare  that  an  urgent  need  of  the  packet  had 
arisen,  the  documents  would  be  surrendered,  and 
Levignet's  hold  on  Madame  Clifton  would  not 
only  be  gone,  but  that  crafty  woman  would  dis- 
cover from  the  missing  papers  in  whose  interest 
Levignet  had  been  working!  Madame's  fear 


22?  Marcel    Levignet 

would  be  excited.  She  might  divine  the  fact  that 
Levignet  was  informed  of  the  Chartier  affair  and 
her  connection  with  it!  She  might  imagine  that 
a  police  investigation  had  been  instituted!  To 
protect  herself  she  might  volunteer  state's  evi- 
dence, and  'Toinette  would  be " 

Levignet  tugged  fiercely,  desperately  at  his 
fastenings,  the  arms  of  the  stout  chair  cracking 
under  his  efforts,  but  resisting  the  strain.  He 
ground  his  teeth  into  the  folds  of  the  scarf  to 
gnaw  through  them;  raging  to  think  that  he  had 
suffered  himself  to  be  bound  instead  of  grappling 
with  his  assailants;  impotently  cursing  the  folly 
that  led  him  to  take  a  jocular  view  of  the  initial 
incident,  raging  and  struggling  for  hours  as  it 
seemed,  until  finally,  through  sheer  exhaustion  of 
mind  and  body,  he  sank  into  a  lethargy  that  was 
succeeded  by  complete  unconsciousness. 

When  he  awakened,  Suzel,  strangely  solemn  and 
mechanical,  was  loosening  the  scarf  from  his 
mouth. 

As  soon  as  he  could  speak,  he  demanded, 

"What  time  is  it?" 

"  It  is  mid-day,  monsieur,"  Suzel  replied 
sullenly. 

"Mid-day!  Loosen  me!  Loosen  me!  Help 
me  to  the  telephone.  Don't  wait  to  untie  the  cord. 
Take  the  knife  from  my  pocket.  Cut  me  free. 
Haste,  woman !  haste !  " 


Marcel    Levignet  229 

Suzel  obeyed  apathetically,  without  hurrying, 
and  in  silence.  Levignet  stormed  at  her,  but  she 
made  no  reply.  He  thought  to  ask  how  she  had 
escaped  from  her  room  to  come  to  him — why  she 
had  not  come  sooner;  but  she  only  muttered, 
making  no  intelligible  answer.  When  she  had 
liberated  him,  she  assisted  him  to  the  telephone, 
asking  no  questions,  indifferent,  listless.  He  called 
up  the  Prefect,  inveighing  against  delay,  Suzel 
standing  motionless  and  mute,  but  regarding  him 
steadily  with  a  curious,  indefinable  expression  in 
her  dim  shadowy  eyes.  There  was  a  tinkle  at  the 
telephone.  The  Prefect?  Yes.  And  the  packet 
left  in  his  charge  by  M.  Levignet?  It  was  de- 
livered to  the  special  messenger  who  came  with  M. 
Levignet's  order  four  hours  ago. 

Levignet  turned  and  moved  away  rapidly  but 
unsteadily  toward  the  door,  stumbled  over  a  chair 
and  fell.  Suzel  helped  him  to  his  feet,  expressing 
no  sympathy,  showing  no  concern. 

"  I  must  go  at  once,  Suzel.     Call  a  cab." 

"  Monsieur's  face  and  clothes  are  covered  with 
blood.  Monsieur  has  not  eaten." 

"True.  I  had  forgot.  I'll  go  to  my  room. 
You  can  call  the  cab  and  prepare  me  a  cup  of 
coffee  while  I  am  getting  ready." 

As  he  came  down  the  stairs  a  few  minutes  later, 
Suzel  was  returning  from  the  front  door  with  a 
letter  just  delivered  by  hand. 


230  Marcel    Levignet 

She  gave  the  letter  to  Levignet,  saying, 
"  Monsieur's  coffee  is  ready." 
Levignet  opened  the  letter,  which  was  unsigned, 
and  read, 

"  Monsieur  Levignet  is  informed  that  the  stolen  papers 
have  been  recovered,  with  the  exception  of  one  set.  That 
exception  reveals  the  object  of  the  theft.  The  tables  are 
turned.  M.  Levignet  doubtless  has  more  than  a  profes- 
sional interest  in  his  client,  but  he  has  made  a  false  play, 
and  exposed  his  game.  Let  him  beware.  The  writer  will 
not  hesitate  to  speak  if  menaced  by  a  word  or  sign.  M. 
Levignet  is  fined  one  hundred  thousand  francs  for  his 
temerity." 

Levignet  drew  a  breath  of  relief.  Though  he 
felt  a  deep  chagrin  in  his  discomfiture,  there  was 
some  palliation  in  the  opinion  that  for  the  present, 
at  least,  he  had  nothing  to  apprehend  from  Ma- 
dame Clifton  that  would  be  to  the  injury  of 
'Toinette.  It  at  once  irritated  and  comforted  him 
to  perceive  from  the  letter  that  Madame  regarded 
her  position  as  being  strengthened  rather  than 
impaired  by  the  turn  of  affairs.  A  second  reading 
of  the  laconic  lines  fixed  his  attention  on  the  final 
sentence  which  he  had  not  considered  at  first.  He 
was  reminded  of  the  forged  cheque,  and  hurried 
anxiously  to  the  telephone  to  communicate  with  his 
bank,  having  a  premonition  that  the  money  had 


Marcel    Levignet  231 

already  been  drawn.  His  fears  were  confirmed. 
The  cheque  had  been  presented  and  paid. 

"Was  there  anything  wrong  with  it?"  came 
the  inquiry. 

"  No — no — nothing,"  Levignet  returned,  "  but 
stop  any  other  cheque  presented  in  my  name  until 
I  can  confer  with  you." 

Robbed  of  one  hundred  thousand  francs  by  an 
egregiously  impudent  forgery  and  afraid  to  de- 
nounce the  crime!  The  sting  of  mortified  self- 
esteem  was  more  painful  than  the  fact  that  he  had 
been  defrauded  of  so  important  a  sum.  He  went 
into  the  breakfast-room  the  object  of  his  own  con- 
temptuous censure,  and  sat  down  grimly  to  his 
rolls  and  coffee.  The  spirit-lamp  was  still  burning 
under  the  coffee-pot,  and  before  extinguishing  it 
he  held  the  letter  to  the  flame,  watched  the  paper 
burn,  and  dropped  the  curled  cinder  into  a  dish. 
He  put  the  cap  on  the  spirit-lamp. 

"  Marcel  Levignet,  you  are  a  fool." 

He  found  himself  hungry.  He  ate  with  eager- 
ness, and  with  his  second  cup  of  coffee  half  finished 
he  rang  the  handbell  for  more  rolls.  As  if  she 
were  in  waiting  for  the  signal,  Suzel  came  at  once 
into  the  room,  but,  instead  of  the  trim  house  dress, 
her  thin  figure  was  clad  in  the  dark  stuff  dress  she 
only  wore  for  state  excursions  into  the  street;  on 
her  head  was  the  old-fashioned,  close-fitting  colour- 
less bonnet,  tied  with  huge  ribbons  of  faded  black, 


232  Marcel    Levignet 

and,  grasped  with  both  hands,  she  held  in  front  of 
her  the  brown  canvas  bag  in  which  she  had  carried 
her  simple  possessions  when  she  came  to  take  serv- 
ice with  Levignet  years  ago. 

Levignet  looked  at  her  in  astonishment  as  she 
came  to  a  standstill  at  the  end  of  the  table  opposite 
to  him.  There  was  something  at  once  pathetic  and 
grotesque  in  her  aspect,  and  Levignet  could  not 
resist  a  smile  as  he  asked  sympathetically, 

"What  is  the  matter,  Suzel?  Where  are  you 
going?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  monsieur.  Away.  That  is  all 
I  know." 

"  Away!     Some  one  of  your  relatives  is  ill?  " 

"  I  have  no  relatives,  monsieur." 

"  Then,  why  are  you  going?  You  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  you  are  leaving  me !  " 

"  That  is  it,  monsieur." 

"  Impossible !     I  can't  let  you  go,  Suzel." 

"  It  is  necessary,  monsieur." 

"But  why?  Why,  Suzel?  You  have  been 
with  me  these  fifteen  years  and  I  have  never  heard 
a  complaint  from  you.  You  have  always  seemed 
perfectly  content — happy,  even; — we  are  quite 
used  to  each  other's  ways — your  work  is  easy — 
your  wages  excellent — you  have  no  other  home! 
Diable !  Suzel,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

"  It  is  that  I  have  been  deceived,  monsieur." 

"  Deceived !    By  whom,  Suzel  ?  " 


Marcel    Levignet  233 

"  By  monsieur." 

"  By  me !  In  the  name  of  all  your  saints,  Suzel, 
has  that  sensible  old  head  of  yours  lost  its 
balance?  " 

"  No,  monsieur.  It  did  not  please  the  good 
Lord  to  take  my  poor  mind  before  He  broke  my 
old  heart." 

"  Come,  Suzel.  We  have  been  friends  rather 
than  master  and  servant.  I  see  you  are  in  sorrow. 
Tell  me  your  grief.  Who  knows?  I  may  have  a 
cure  for  it.  Come;  tell  me  what  has  troubled 
you." 

"  I  could  not  make  monsieur  understand.  I  do 
not  know  how  to  say  things.  I  have  not  the 
words.  I  am  ignorant.  I  know  nothing;  I  only 
feel." 

"  Say  what  it  is  in  your  own  way,  Suzel ;  I  shall 
understand.  I  have  deceived  you,  you  say. 
How?" 

"  That  is  what  I  cannot  put  into  words,  mon- 
sieur. When  I  have  knelt  down  before  the  little 
image  of  St.  Joseph  that  is  in  my  room,  it  is  that 
I  know  the  good  saint  in  his  heaven  is  able  to  set 
all  things  right  with  me."  She  hesitated,  explor- 
ing the  empty  byways  of  her  mind  for  a  word  to 
convey  her  meaning. 

'Yes,  Suzel;  I  know — you  have  confidence  in 
the  good  Joseph.  Eh  ?" 

"  That  is  it,  monsieur.     And  it  is  that  I  had 


234  Marcel    Levignet 

confidence  in  monsieur  as  I  have  confidence  in  St. 
Joseph.  I  have  loved  the  good  saint  because  he 
is  holy;  I  have  loved  monsieur  because  I  thought 
he  was  the  best  of  men — better  than  other  men — 
more  wise  than  other  men — able  to  do  with  other 
men  what  it  pleased  him  to  do — very  superior  to 
other  men.  I  was  proud  to  be  the  servant  of  mon- 
sieur. It  has  pleased  the  good  God  to  punish  me 
for  my  pride.  He  has  punished  me,  monsieur, 
by  taking  the  life  out  of  my  heart." 

Levignet  understood  her  meaning.  The  simple 
soul  had  judged  him — had  weighed  him  in  the 
balance  of  her  reverence  and  loyalty  and  found  him 
wanting.  A  strange  sense  of  unworthiness,  of 
shame,  troubled  him,  and  he  toyed  with  his  coffee 
spoon,  looking  down,  waiting  for  Suzel  to  go  on. 

The  old  woman  set  her  canvas  bag  on  the  floor, 
and  feeling  in  her  pocket,  drew  forth  a  cloth 
purse  from  which  she  took  a  ten-franc  piece  and 
laid  it  on  the  table,  talking,  meanwhile,  in  a  pas- 
sionless, monotonous  way. 

"  When  one  of  the  footman  who  came  with  them 
told  me,  after  I  had  let  you  in,  that  it  was  your 
wish  that  I  go  to  my  room  until  you  had  need  of 
me,  I  went.  I  did  not  question.  It  is  so  with 
me.  I  sat  waiting  till  I  heard  the  front  door  close 
and  the  carriage  drive  away.  I  waited  yet  a  time ; 
then  I  thought  '  He  has  forgotten,'  and  I  go  to 
open  the  door.  It  is  locked.  Very  well.  I  do  not 


Marcel    Levignet  235 

question  what  monsieur  does,  and  after  a  while  I 
go  to  bed.  In  the  morning,  the  door  is  not  yet 
unlocked.  I  wait.  After  a  time  it  is  late.  Very 
late.  I  have  work  to  do.  I  knock  on  the  door 
and  call,  but  you  do  not  answer.  I  wait  yet  a 
long  time.  But  there  are  just  so  many  hours  in 
the  day  and  work  for  each  hour.  I  think  again, 
he  has  forgotten,  and  gone  to  his  business.  With 
my  scissors  I  unscrew  the  lock  from  the  door.  I 
come  downstairs.  I  go  into  the  salon.  I  see 
monsieur.  Ah,  God!  it  is  as  if  the  thunder  from 
heaven  strike  me.  I  do  not  know — I  think  I  died, 
monsieur.  I  was  dead  for  a  long  time,  but  I  saw 
monsieur  all  the  time.  Then  I  became  alive  again 
— but  it  is  only  a  man  tied  in  the  chair — what  I 
had  known  and  loved — what  I  had  always  had  in 
mind — I  don't  know " 

"  Your  ideal,  Suzel,"  said  Levignet,  humbly. 

"  Maybe  that.  I  don't  know.  Something  was 
gone.  And  my  old  heart,  it  was  gone,  too.  That 
is  why  I  go  away,  monsieur.  That  is  why  I  have 
broken  the  little  image  of  St.  Joseph  in  my  room, 
monsieur.  But  I  remember  it  was  not  mine. 
Here  are  the  ten  francs  to  pay  for  it.  Now  I  must 
go,  monsieur." 

She  took  up  her  bag  again  and  moved  toward 
the  door. 

"  Wait,  Suzel,"  said  Levignet,  rising  and  going 
toward  her.  "You  are  old,  friendless;  you  have 


236  Marcel    Levignet 

no   home   but   this.     Let   us   live   out   our   days 

together.     If  your  ideal  is  gone,  you  will  still  find 

me  a  good  master.     Stay  with  me." 

"  No,  monsieur.    I  could  not.     I  should  always 

see  the  mark  of  that  woman's  whip  upon  your 

cheek,  and  it  would  make  me  false  to  the  good 

God  at  last." 

"  How  do  you  know  there  was  a  whip,  Suzel?  " 
"  I  found  it  on  the  floor.     I  have  it  in  my  bag. 

I  shall  always  keep  it.     They  shall  bury  it  with 


me." 


Levignet  stood  silent,  curiously  awed  by  this 
droll  exhibition  of  humiliated  loyalty,  and  Suzel 
passed  out  of  the  room,  and  presently  the  street 
door  closed  behind  her. 

Levignet  went  to  pick  up  the  ten-franc  piece  from 
the  table,  gazed  at  it  long  and  moodily,  but 
absently;  laughed;  put  the  coin  into  the  locket  that 
hung  from  his  watch-guard,  and  brushed  a  tear 
from  his  eye.  Then,  going  to  a  mirror  on  the 
wall  over  the  fireplace,  he  looked  at  the  reflection 
of  a  red  weal  on  his  cheek. 


XXIX 

I  HAVE  lived  too  long,"  Levignet  declared 
after  recounting  these  incidents  to  me  as  we 
sat  in  the  upper  verandah  of  a  snug  little 
tavern  at  Suresnes  that  afternoon.  "  A  man 
should  not  outlive  his  wits.  Egotism  is  the  infalli- 
ble sign  of  mental  deficiency.  I  have  become  an 
egotist.  My  judgment  is  obscured.  I  have  been 
guilty  of  letting  bravado  usurp  the  function  of  dis- 
cretion. Some  part  of  my  brain  is  diseased — 
atrophied.  What  was  it  persuaded  me  to  let  them 
bind  me  in  a  chair?  Egotism.  I  was  so  well 
satisfied  with  myself — I  was  so  well  content  with 
the  precautions  I  had  taken,  that  I  wished  to  deride 
them  when  they  thought  they  had  me  at  the  great- 
est disadvantage.  Egotist!  Driveller!  Imbecile! 
And  she  the  cleverest  woman  in  Paris !  " 

"  You  forget  the  Marquis'  pistol." 

"  Pah !  A  thousand  to  one  it  was  not  loaded. 
If  loaded,  he  had  not  the  courage  to  fire  it.  That 
was  but  an  ingredient  of  the  farce." 

"And  the  lackeys?" 

"  Lackeys !  That !  "  He  snapped  his  fingers. 
"  Three  armed  Prussians  have  tried  to  make  me 
their  prisoner.  They  are  repenting  in  Purgatory. 
It  was  neither  the  marquis,  nor  the  lackeys,  nor 
the  pistol  that  triumphed  over  me.  It  was  ego- 

237 


238  Marcel    Levignet 

tisnt,  I  tell  you,  the  only  infection  of  the  devil 
which  neither  Christianity  nor  medicine  can  anti- 
dote. What  is  left  to  a  man  when  he  entirely  con- 
demns himself?  " 

"  Well,  to  begin  with,  he  can  toss  egotism  out  of 
his  mental  windows." 

"Hah!  You  think  I  have  any  left?  I  am  as 
flat  in  the  dust  as  a  reptile  that  has  been  crushed 
under  a  hoof.  I  am  servile  to  servility.  When  the 
old  Suzel  went  out  of  my  house  she  took  the  last 
shreds  of  my  egotism  to  mend  her  own  broken 
pride." 

"As  a  philosopher,  dear  Levignet,  you  know 
that  the  most  odious  characteristic  of  egotism  is  hu- 
mility. It  is  the  anathema  maranatha  of  Sham. 
You  don't  mean  a  word  of  what  you  have  said. 
You  are  angry  because  you  can  hit  upon  no  plan  of 
action.  The  way  you  have  chewed  your  cigar  to 
a  pulp  is  excellent  proof  that  your  Committee  of 
Ways  and  Means  is  in  stormy  session." 

"  My  dear  Summerville,"  exclaimed  Levignet, 
amused  by  the  conceit,  "  you  sometimes  surprise 
me  by  a  flash  of  discernment.  But  you  are  right. 
I  shall  find  a  way  to  win  Suzel  back.  She  will 
weep  for  me  when  I  die.  I  can  see  her  now  lying 
drenched  and  earth-splashed  on  my  grave."  There 
was  something  strange  in  his  voice  as  he  said  this, 
and  his  eyes  were  looking  into  the  future. 

He  came  back  after  a  moment  and  continued : 


Marcel    Levignet  239 

"  A  little  while  ago  you  said  I  could  seize  the 
Marquis  as  a  forger.  That  is  true.  But  if  I  did, 
what  then?  I  might  recover  something  of  my 
hundred  thousand  francs,  and  clap  the  mannikin 
behind  the  bars.  But  how  could  I  do  so  without 
running  the  risk  that  her  history  would  come  out 
in  the  proceedings  ?  I  could  invite  the  scoundrelly 
dwarf  into  Belgium  or  Swizerland  to  be  shot  at, 
but  the  dastard  would  decline  on  the  ground  that 
it  is  impossible  he  should  put  himself  on  a  level 
with  a  man  who  has  been  horsewhipped  by  a 
woman.  In  his  noble  eyes  I  was  dishonoured  by 
the  lashes  Madame  Clifton  showered  on  me.  He 
could  not  understand  that  his  own  part  in  that 
affair  raised  me  above  the  rank  of  a  marquis! 
Eh!  well;  what  to  do?  What  but  to  wait  for 
Chance  to  speak?  I  am  restless — impatient — 
smarting  with  a  fire  that  needs  to  be  extinguished; 
but — what  can  I  ?  I  must  wait — wait  I  " 

"  It  seems  so.  As  we  say  in  my  country,  the 
cards  are  stacked  against  you." 

"  You  need  not  remind  me.  It  is  not  pleasant 
to  know  that  one  has  bungled ;  it  is  damnable  when 
one  has  bungled  at  the  expense  of  those  he  would 
very  cheerfully  die  to  serve.  Ah!  I  was  filled 
with  the  idea  of  clearing  a  viper  from  the  path  of 
a  protegee  ignorant  of  my  guardianship.  I  prom- 
ised my  heart  the  joy  of  avenging  the  wrong  to 
'Toinette — and  I  have  only  roused  the  sleeping 


240  Marcel    Levignet 

fury — exposed  her  to  a  new  danger.  Name  of 
Satan!  I  am  maundering.  Let  us  go  for  our 
stroll  in  the  Bois.  It  is  the  driving  hour.  We 
may  see — umph  1  everyone." 

"  No  doubt  we  shall  get  a  glimpse  of  the  Baron- 
ess." 

"  I  disguise  nothing  from  you.  I  shall  see  no 
one  but  her." 

The  season  was  well  begun,  and  in  these  fault- 
less afternoons  the  brilliancy  of  the  gay  scenes  in 
the  paragon  of  driving  parks  offered  a  cure  for  the 
most  aggravated  attack  of  doldrums.  It  is  not  in 
the  nature  of  man  to  saunter  in  balmy  air,— odor- 
ous with  the  breath  of  spring  and  the  young  sum- 
mer in  their  first  caress, — along  avenues  thronged 
with  beaming,  lovely  women,  in  costumes  to  rival 
the  delicate  hues  of  the  flowers,  whose  draperies 
exhale  the  perfume  of  rose  and  violet  and  jas- 
mine,— and  cling  to  his  melancholy.  Certainly  it 
was  not  in  the  spirit  of  Levignet  to  keep  a  saturnine 
aspect  in  the  face  of  beauty  in  graceful  dalliance. 
Before  we  had  idly  promenaded  half  the  length  of 
the  noble  Avenue  de  Longchamps,  thronged  with 
loitering  carriages  and  strolling  or  lounging  bevies 
of  men  and  women  of  the  elegant  monde  and  demi- 
monde, the  sparkle  of  zest  had  come  into  his  eyes 
and  the  vivacity  of  the  jole  de  vivre  into  his  speech. 
He  jested  and  laughed,  and  saluted  acquaintances 
in  happy  forgetfulness  of  mortifying  disappoint- 


Marcel    Levignet  241 

ments  and  misadventures,  reiterating  his  holiday 
refrain  that  Paris  is  the  Elysium  of  earth,  and,  re- 
juvenated by  mental  excitement,  tossed  his  stick 
into  the  victoria  trailing  after  us,  and  walked  with 
a  step  as  springy  as  that  of  a  newly-commissioned 
subaltern  on  dress-parade. 

"  After  all,  Summerville,  '  carpe  diem '  is  the 
keynote  of  existence!  What  fools  we  are  to 
plague  our  souls  with  restrospects  and  anticipations 
when  the  sum  of  everything  is  the  passing  mo- 
ment !  What  the  deuce  have  we  to  do  with  yester-  ! 
day?  Let  the  dead  bury  the  dead.  As  for  to- 
morrow— what  doctor  of  the  Sorbonne  can  give  us 
proof  that  there  is  a  to-morrow?  Look  at  that 
turnout.  What  a  pair  of  horses!  What  a  jewel 
of  a  carriage !  Nothing  to  surpass  it  in  the  drive. 
And  the  radiant  creature  lolling  in  the  cushioned 
corner  like  a  Cleopatra  moving  to  the  conquest  of 
an  Antony, — do  you  recognise  her?  " 

"Oh,  yes!  Everyone  knows  the  queen  of  the 
half-world." 

"  But  the  imbecile  tried  to  kill  herself  last  week. 
And  all  because  the  illusion  of  a  Yesterday  had 
spun  a  cobweb  in  her  silly  brain !  And  look  at  that 
grim-visaged  woman  with  her  brace  of  daughters. 
She  is  the  wife  of  an  ambassador,  and  so  puffed 
with  her  notions  of  To-morrow's  dependence  on 
her  that  she  cannot  see  beyond  the  horizon  of  her 
own  rotundity.  She  is  a  greater  fool  than  our 


242  Marcel    Levignet 

Cyprian.  But  both  are  comediennes  in  the  grand 
burletta.  We  must  laugh  at  each  in  her  own  key. 
What  a  pitiful  improvidence  it  was  that  the  scheme 
of  Nature  included  no  arrangement  for  the  supply 
and  replenishment  of  brains!  Oh,  bottom  of 
Hades!  That  is  too  much  I 

The  exclamation  and  brusque  change  of  tone 
from  levity  to  indignation  were  provoked  by  the 
passing  of  de  Fonteville  in  a  carriage  with  Madame 
Clifton  and  the  blonde  Mademoiselle  Dupont. 
Had  they  gone  past  without  observing  Levignet  it 
is  probable  he  was  in  a  humour  to  fling  a  jest  into 
the  air  after  them;  but,  as  they  came  near,  the 
horses  ambling  at  a  pace  little  better  than  a  walk, 
Madame  Clifton's  all-surveying  eye  caught  sight 
of  us ;  she  reached  over  and  touched  de  Fonteville's 
knee  to  direct  his  attention  to  us. 

The  Marquis  looked,  recognised  Levignet, 
nodded  familiarly  and  began  laughing,  Madame 
Clifton  joining  him,  the  two  keeping  their  jeering 
faces  toward  Levignet  as  they  went  by,  he  stopping 
to  glare  at  them  as  if  of  a  mind  to  leap  into  the 
carriage  and  throw  the  grimacing  ape  under  the 
wheels.  Their  laughter  was  so  loud  and  mocking 
that  the  notice  of  others  was  attracted  to  Levignet 
and,  without  knowing  why,  they  tittered  in  the  thor- 
oughly characteristic  fashion  of  the  French,  whose 
risibilities  are  not  subject  to  the  law  of  cause  and 
effect. 


Marcel   Levignet  243 

As  quickly  as  his  passion  had  risen,  Levignet's 
sense  of  the  humorous  reasserted  itself,  and  he 
laughed  so  heartily  that  the  people  about  him  de- 
clared, "  C'est  un  farceur!  "  and  were  rather  dis- 
appointed when  he  locked  arms  with  me  and  we 
resumed  our  promenade. 

But  we  scrutinised  approaching  and  passing  car- 
riages in  vain.  Weary  of  walking,  we  got  into 
the  victoria  and  rapidly  retraversed  the  fre- 
quented, and  explored  the  unfrequented  avenues 
without  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  object  of  Levi- 
gnet's hungering  guest.  The  crowd  was  beginning 
to  diminish,  the  carriages  deserting  the  drives,  for 
fashionable  Paris  is  punctual  in  matters  of  form, 
and  will  not  even  linger  in  the  Bois  beyond  the 
prescribed  limit  of  time,  let  vulgarly  unconven- 
tional sunsets  cajole  as  they  may. 

"  Avenue  Bois  de  Boulogne,"  said  Levignet  to 
the  coachman  at  last,  and  waxed  taciturn  as  we 
entered  the  retiring  procession. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  top  of  the  Avenue,  there 
was  a  crush  of  vehicles  that  brought  our  own  to  a 
stop.  Levignet  was  not  in  the  mood  for  waiting 
and,  though  he  had  agreed  that  we  should  dine  to- 
gether, he  stepped  down  from  the  victoria  with  a 
flourish  of  apologetic  leave-takings  interlarded  with 
expletives  in  disparagement  of  the  police  manage- 
ment of  street  traffic. 

"  You  may  abandon  your  carriage,  Levignet,  but 


244  Marcel    Levignet 

I'll  be  hanged  if  you  shall  desert  me,"  I  protested, 
getting  to  the  pavement  with  him.  "  Besides,  I 
rather  counted  on  your  paying  for  my  dinner." 

"  Come  along,  then,"  said  Levignet,  not  at  all 
displeased  with  my  resolution  to  keep  him  in  hand. 
"  But  I'm  not  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  make  it  worth 
your  while.  You  may  count  on  being  bored." 

We  made  our  way  among  the  block  of  car- 
riages, at  some  hazard  crossed  to  the  Arc  de 
Triomphe  and  were  making  a  dash  for  the  Champs 
filysees  pavement  when  who  should  come  within 
an  ace  of  running  us  down  but  'Toinette  and  the 
Baron !  It  was  only  the  quick  action  of  the  coach- 
man in  swerving  the  horses  sharply  to  one  side  that 
saved  Levignet  from  a  hurt,  owing  to  the  fact  that 
at  the  sight  of  the  Baroness  he  had  unconsciously 
arrested  his  steps.  'Toinette  had  uttered  a  cry 
of  alarm  and,  the  danger  averted,  ordered  the 
carriage  stopped  at  the  curb,  and  called  to 
Levignet : 

"  My  dear  friend,  how  incautious  of  you !  "  she 
chided,  as  Levignet  came  up.  "  You  have  given 
me  a  fright  from  which  I  shall  not  soon  recover," 
and,  Levignet  offering  some  fatuous  assurance  of 
the  pleasure  it  would  have  been  to  him  to  be  tram- 
pled by  that  particular  pair  of  bays,  she  added, 
1  You  are  not  to  make  light  of  a  miraculous  deliv- 
erance. Come !  get  in,  with  your  companion,  that 
we  may  scold  you  as  you  deserve,  at  our  leisure." 


Marcel    Levignet  245 

With  an  eagerness  almost  comical,  so  naive  was 
Levignet's  attempt  to  moderate  his  happiness,  I 
was  presented  to  the  Baroness  and  the  Baron,  the 
latter  courteously  and  feelingly  repeating  his  wife's 
invitation  to  us,  and  in  the  next  minute  we  were 
seated  opposite  the  couple  and  spinning  down  the 
Avenue. 

'Toinette  persisted  in  treating  the  incident  as  if 
it  had  been  a  casualty,  and  Levignet  as  resolutely 
maintained  the  intelligent  benevolence  of  Chance 
in  guiding  his  course. 

"  You  are  a  fatalist,  monsieur?  "  de  Noel  asked 
smilingly. 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world,  Baron.  I  do  not 
say  with  the  Italians,  *  What  will  be,  will  be,'  I 
only  hold  that  what  should  be  must  be,  and  that 
the  results  we  so  commonly  and  erronously  attrib- 
ute to  coincidence  are  in  reality  the  logical  out- 
come of  wise  arrangement.  The  whole  secret  of 
right  action,  that  completely  disposes  of  the  theory 
of  coincidence,  is  obedience  to  so-called  impulse, 
which  is,  in  fact,  a  supreme  command." 

11 1  am  afraid,"  objected  the  Baron  good- 
humouredly,  "  that  a  good  many  of  our  impulses 
would  urge  us  into  conduct  unpleasantly  akin  to 
folly." 

"  That  is  possible  only  when  we  debate  them,  or  '' 
mistake   personal    inclination    for   super-conscious 
suggestion.    The  difficulty  with  most  of  us  is  that 


246  Marcel    Levignet 

we  are  cursed  with  the  pride  of  intellect,  and  fancy 
that  our  few  ounces  of  grey  matter  are  equal  to 
the  analysis  of  Divinity.  I  am  convinced  that  the 
fall  of  man  was  nothing  more  or  less  than  his  sub- 
stitution of  reason  for  instinct.  For  example,  if 
you  will  permit  me,  I  and  my  friend  spent  the 
afternoon  in  the  endeavour  to  find  you  in  the 
Bois " 

"  But  we  did  not  go  to  the  Bois  to-day,"  de- 
clared 'Toinette  with  judicial  raillery.  "  My  hus- 
band had  business  in  Versailles  this  morning,  and  I 
begged  to  go  with  him.  So  you  see  your  in- 
stinct  " 

"  Pardon,"  said  Levignet,  interrupting  her  with 
a  gesture.  "  You  are  but  stating  my  case.  It  was 
reason,  not  instinct,  that  betrayed  me  to  a  waste  of 
time  in  the  Bois.  It  was  instinct  that  urged  me  to 
cross  the  Place  de  1'Etoile  at  the  critical  moment  to 
intercept  your  escape." 

"  At  the  risk  of  your  life,  perhaps,"  said  'Toin- 
ette, with  an  incredulous  shake  of  the  head.  "  A 
dangerous  instinct,  my  good  Levignet." 

"  On  the  contrary,  one  of  such  admirable  pre- 
cision that  it  can  calculate  its  limits  of  activity  to  a 
hair's  breath." 

"At  any  rate,"  de  Noel  said,  with  a  smiling 
purpose  to  change  the  conversation,  and  bowing  to 
include  me  in  his  invitation,  "  it  procured  us  the 
pleasure  of  company  which  I  hope  we  may  com- 


Marcel   Levignet  247 

mand  for  the  evening.  You  have  made  yourself  a 
stranger,  M.  Levignet." 

"  It  may  be,"  Levignet  replied  gravely,  his  man- 
ner changing  to  uneasiness  and  embarrassment, 
"  that  you  will  wish  me  to  be  more  of  a  stranger 
to  you  and  Madame  the  Baroness  when  I  take  my 
leave  of  you.  But  if  you  will  receive  M.  Summer- 
ville  and  me  thus  informally,  you  will  give  me  an 
opportunity  to  make  a  statement  it  is  important 
that  you  should  hear." 

De  Noel  and  'Toinette  exchanged  glances  of  in- 
quiry before  the  Baron  said,  in  friendly  sincerity: 

"  No  statement  you  may  have  to  make,  M. 
Levignet,  can  diminish  the  respect  and  esteem  in 
which  you  are  held  by  madame  and  myself." 

"  No,  indeed  1  "  'Toinette  warmly  added,  at  the 
same  time  extending  her  hand  to  Levignet,  who 
clasped  it  with  undisguised  emotion. 

"  It  will  be,  then,  because  you  know  that  my 
errors  of  judgment  cannot  be  due  to  a  lack  of 
devotion." 

'Toinette  made  a  flattering  answer,  and  with 
graceful  tact  immediately  opened  the  way  to  light 
talk  by  putting  a  question  to  me  in  English.  My 
response  was  near  enough  to  a  jest  to  afford  an 
excuse  for  a  little  ripple  of  laughter  and  a  witticism 
from  the  Baroness  which  the  Baron  followed  up 
agreeably,  and  if  the  gaiety  which  ensued  was  of 
the  forced  variety,  that  never  quite  succeeds  in 


248  Marcel    Levignet 

hiding  constraint,  the  apparent  result  was  a  com- 
plete recovery  from  the  temporary  depression 
caused  by  Levignet's  gloomy  speech. 

Though  this  was  the  first  time  I  had  met  the 
Baroness — indeed,  I  had  scarcely  seen  her  since  the 
memorable  night  in  the  Cafe  Riche  when  Levignet 
told  me  her  story — my  intimate  knowledge  of  her 
history  made  her  seem  to  me  an  old,  almost,  I  may 
say,  privileged  acquaintance.  But  had  the  circum- 
stances been  otherwise, — if,  before  getting  into  her 
carriage  I  had  been  in  ignorance  of  her  existence, — 
the  candour  and  charm  of  manner,  the  vivacity  of 
mind  and  the  amiability  of  temper  which  added  so 
greatly  to  the  fascination  of  her  remarkable  beauty 
would  have  persuaded  me  to  that  tranquil  freedom 
from  reserve  which  gives  character  and  value  to 
human  intercourse  and  discriminates  the  franchised 
intellect  from  the  servile,  suspicious  and  half- 
barbarous  Boeotians  who  are  herded  under  the  stul- 
tifying brand  of  Polite  Society. 

It  was  difficult  to  reconcile  her  frank,  even  ingen- 
uous good-nature  and  zest,  her  care-free,  un- 
troubled spirit  of  happiness  with  the  fact  that  her 
life  had  been  dragged  through  a  tragedy  of  shame, 
and  that  over  her  impended  the  shadow  of  a  past 
that  might  sweep  down  to  her  ruin.  I  had  ex- 
pected to  see  again  some  trace  of  triste  memories 
in  her  smile,  the  lurking  ghost  of  an  old  horror  in 
her  eyes,  and  detect  behind  her  lightness  the  creep- 


Marcel    Levignet  249 

ing  shade  of  a  restless  foreboding.  But  there  was 
no  sign  whatever  of  the  haunting  sadness  that  had 
seemed  an  addition  to  her  beauty  when  I  saw  her 
first.  In  the  months  since  then,  fear,  distrust, 
anxiety,  even  recollection  of  unhappiness  had,  ap- 
parently, been  dispelled;  and  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
love  was  the  necromancer. 


XXX 

POOR  Levignet!  Before  the  evening  was 
far  advanced  I  had  come  to  a  keen 
sympathy  with  the  sentiment  of  adoration 
with  which  his  eyes  shone  when  he  looked  on 
'Toinette — a  sentiment  pathetic  in  its  utter  devo- 
tion, for  the  reason  that  the  woman  who  inspired 
it  was  quite  unaware  of  it,  so  all-excluding  was 
her  love  for  her  husband.  The  gratitude  of  her 
heart  had,  indeed,  built  him  a  shrine  of  affection, 
but  the  offerings  were  to  "  Mon  bienfalteur," 
"  mon  pere."  Had  it  been  suggested  to  her  that 
Levignet's  emotion  was  that  hunger  for  possession 
which  is  man's  love  for  woman,  she  might — so 
whimsical  is  the  feminine  sensorium — have  laughed 
and  tweaked  his  ear  between  her  pretty  thumb 
and  finger  to  reprove  his  folly,  accepting  his 
passion  as  the  natural  tribute  which  man  pays  to 
sovereign  woman — the  mere  rendering  unto 
Cassar  the  thing  that  is  Caesar's.  But  the  same 
suggestion  made  to  Levignet  himself  would  have 
been  a  mortal  affront,  so  greatly  had  the  "  one 
flower  in  the  garden  of  his  heart "  expanded  and 
deepened  in  hue  and  fragrance  in  the  sunshine  of 
the  last  few  months.  He  had  no  dream  of  posses- 
sion in  his  regard  of  this  woman.  The  discrim- 

250 


Marcel    Levignet  251 

ination  that  tempered  his  admiration  of  'Toin- 
ette  when  he  first  talked  with  me  about  her  had  been 
swallowed  up  in  idolatry.  Like  an  Indian  purada, 
he  had  gazed  so  long  and  fixedly  into  the  face  of 
his  deity  that  he  now  believed  it  glorified  by  a 
swathing  refulgence  that  refined  its  very  deformi- 
ties into  the  unit  of  perfection.  In  what  concerned 
'Toinette  his  judgment  was  no  longer  deliberate, 
selective.  The  cynical  lightness  that  formerly 
characterised  his  talk  and  coloured  his  views  of  life 
had  gradually  softened  into  a  sentimental  quality 
of  mind  that  he  himself  described  as  "  optimistic 
melancholy."  It  was  impossible  to  decide  how 
much  of  the  personal  equation  entered  into  his  wor- 
ship; but  I  thought,  as  I  watched  the  play  of  his 
expression  and  caught  the  tone  of  his  voice  a  num- 
ber of  times  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  that  if 
ever  man  in  the  vigour  of  his  years  felt  a  self- 
eliminating  love  for  woman,  Marcel  Levignet  was 
the  man.  That  was  the  conviction  in  my  mind 
that  night,  and  the  later  events  of  the  year  make 
it  sweet  to  remember  now  that  I  was  able  to  appre- 
ciate the  character  of  my  friend.  A  less  intimate, 
less  sympathetic  acquaintance  might  have  been  ex- 
cusable in  suspecting  Levignet  of  a  feeling  strongly 
tinctured  with  covetousness,  for  it  is  not  to  be 
denied  that  he  evinced  a  fantastical,  unconscious 
kind  of  jealousy  of  de  Noel,  who  was  ever  alert  to 
bestow  pretty  attentions  and  services  upon  his  wife, 


252  Marcel    Levignet 

as  eager  with  his  gallantries  as  if  he  were  a  new- 
come  suitor  for  her  hand.  But  I,  being  the  only 
one  to  note  Levignet's  conduct,  saw  in  this  jealousy 
only  the  pain  of  the  zealot  who  suffers  when  irrev- 
erence touches  even  the  outer  garment  of  his  per- 
sonified saint. 

"  Must  I  banish  myself  to  the  salon?  "  'Toinette 
demanded,  when  the  coffee  was  brought  in ;  "  or 
will  you  let  me  stay  and  smoke  a  cigarette  with 
you?" 

"  As  you  please,"  said  de  Noel,  twinkling  his 
preference. 

"  Stay;  by  all  means,  let  us  continue  in  a  state  of 
happiness,"  Levignet  implored.  "  If  you  go,  I 
shall  be  too  surly  for  the  security  of  these  gentle- 
men. Come ;  do  me  the  honour  to  light  a  cigarette 
from  the  end  of  mine." 

"  Willingly.  But  really  I  make  rather  a  sorry 
spectacle  as  a  smoker.  I  am  still  a  novice." 

"  I  have  found  it  almost  impossible  to  teach 
her,"  the  Baron  volunteered,  chuckling  reminis- 
cently. 

"  I  can't  say  I  like  it.     But  everyone  is  doing  it." 

"  Yes ;  cigarette-smoking  is  in  a  fair  way  to  be- 
come an  exclusively  feminine  accomplishment," 
said  de  Noel.  "  We  others  will  have  to  revive  the 
snuffbox  as  a  mark  of  distinction." 

"You  forget,  Baron,"  I  ventured,  "that  the 
ladies  formerly  excelled  in  the  use  of  that  article." 


Marcel   Levignet  253 

"  True ;  and,  the  gentlemen  retiring  from  the 
competition,  the  snuffbox  and  the  elegance  that 
went  with  it  were  banished  from  society.  It  is  a  ' 
process  of  social  evolution  that,  after  men  have  be- 
come thoroughly  established  in  a  vice,  women  will 
troop  in  to  its  adoption." 

"  That  is  as  it  should  be,"  Levignet  asserted,  as 
he  held  his  cigarette  for  'Toinette  to  take  a  light. 
11  Man  is  such  an  egotist  that  he  never  recognises  r 
his  follies  and  vices  until  woman  parades  them  in 
imitation." 

"  That  sounds  very  much  like  a  rebuke  of  my 
attempt  to  be  sociable  with  you,"  'Toinette 
laughed. 

"  Not  at  all,"  protested  Levignet  gallantly;  "  it 
was  merely  an  acknowledgment  of  woman's  correc- 
tive relation  to  the  evils  and  blemishes  of  our  eccen- 
tric system  of  civilisation,  which  only  gets  forward 
by  reaction.  It  is  my  theory  that  men  cease  to  be  ,' 
vicious  only  as  women  tend  to  become  so.  The 
best  temperance  lecture  is  an  intoxicated  woman. 
On  the  faith  of  an  old  soldier,  it  is  my  opinion  that 
mankind  will  never  appreciate  the  egregious  folly 
of  war  and  the  grotesque  madness  of  making  heroes 
out  of  butchers  of  their  fellow  men  until  women 
take  up  the  trade  and  try  their  hand  at  legislation 
by  the  cannon." 

"That  is  a  reflection  of  genius,  M.  Levignet," 
'Toinette  said  in  smiling  approval,  as  she  puffed 


254  Marcel    Levignet 

some  smoke  from  her  mouth.  "If  you  will  pro- 
cure me  a  commission,  I'll  raise  an  army." 

"  I  could  nowhere  find  a  general  more  certain  of 
victory,  madame," 

"No,  no,  M.  Levignet,"  objected  the  Baron; 
"  we  must  do  nothing  to  put  an  end  to  war  as  long 
as  the  lower  masses  of  humanity  show  such  a  fright- 
ful fecundity,  and  while  the  upper  classes  produce 
so  many  pretty  gentlemen  with  no  brain-power 
above  the  military  level.  The  great  peril  of  our 
time  is  superfluous  population.  Our  academic 
statesmen  are  trying  to  solve  the  problem  by  peda- 
gogy, though  the  only  solution  is  to  be  found  in  the 
school  of  Mars.  Europe  and  the  world  in  general 
are  suffering  from  plethora;  the  remedy  is  the  old- 
fashioned  one  of  bloodletting.  Civilisation  needs 
nothing  so  much  as  a  decimating  war  every  two 
years." 

De  Noel  had  spoken  banteringly,  but  with  the 
air  of  half-believing  what  he  said. 

'Tomette  clucked  in  amused  protest,  and  re- 
quired Levignet  to  bludgeon  de  Noel  with  his  own 
fallacy. 

"  I  do  not  absolutely  disagree  with  him,  ma- 
dame;  for,  after  all,  humanity  is  much  the  same  as 
rank  meadowland,  all  the  better  for  the  sweep  of 
.  the  mower's  scythe  at  convenient  intervals." 

"Are  they  not  barbarians,  M.  Summerville  ?  " 
'Toinette  queried,  making  a  drolly  awkward  effort 


Marcel    Levignet  255 

to  fillip  ^  the  ash  from  her  cigarette  with  the  tip  of 
her  little  finger. 

"  Barbarians — or  sages." 

"  Sages  to  talk  like  that !     Bah !  " 

"  I  confess  myself  a  barbarian,  madame,"  said 
Levignet,  "  because  I  do  not  think  that  tailoring  ' 
and  architecture  have  done  much  to  alter  our  primi- 
tive character.  We  have  changed  the  habits  but 
not  the  nature  we  had  as  troglodytes.  We  are  not 
so  splendidly  ferocious  as  we  were.  We  are  not  so 
superbly  muscled.  We  have  less  self-reliant  cour- 
age, less  self-directing  physical  energy;  but  we  are 
no  whit  less  brutal,  less  selfishly  eager  to  tear  and 
rend  and  get  the  better  of  each  other.  We  have 
substituted  craft,  cunning,  duplicity,  hypocrisy  for  : 
the  claws  and  teeth  and  stone  hammer  with  which 
we  used  to  settle  our  rivalries  and  terminate  our 
disputes  and  accomplish  our  desires.  But  we  are  \ 
just  as  pitiless  in  our  new  way  as  we  were  in  our 
old — just  as  determined  to  profit  by  the  weakness 
and  misfortunes  of  our  fellows — just  as  treacher- 
ous in  our  friendships  where  self-interest  arises. 
In  short,  dear  madame,  in  spite  of  our  laws  and 
conventions,  in  spite  of  our  cooks  and  our  tailors 
and  all  the  category  in  between,  we  are  still  as 
savage  as  our  pithecoid  ancestors;  and  life  is  as 
predatory  and  fierce  and  heartless  and  profitless 
as  it  was  when  hairy  man  strove  with  shaggy  brute 
for  the  possession  of  a  lair." 


256  Marcel    Levignet 

"  Bravo,  Levignet !  "  exclaimed  de  Noel.  "  What 
you  say  is  irrefutable  science.  I  drink  my  Char- 
treuse in  your  honour." 

"  Ah,  no,  my  dear  friend,  what  you  say  is  too 
gross  for  slander,"  'Toinette  said,  looking  at  Lev- 
ignet as  she  dropped  into  the  ash-tray  the  cigarette 
she  had  only  affected  to  smoke.  "  I  do  not  like  to 
see  you  cynical — I  who  find  life  beautiful — so  beau- 
tiful, so  sweet,  that  sometimes  I  tremble  in  the 
fragrance  of  it,  fearful  of  the  happiness  I  do  so 
little  deserve, — fearful  lest  I  wake  suddenly  from 
the  dream  of  it  1  It  is  easy  to  jest.  We  say  things. 
We  have  our  moods,  it  is  true.  But  there  is  a  light 
in  your  eyes,  my  friend,  that  gives  the  lie  to  the 
sneer  on  your  lips.  And  I  who  know  you  so  much 
better  than  do  these  others  will  not  let  you  wrong 
yourself  by  false  report.  Come,  then;  you  speak 
in  this  way  because  something  troubles  you.  I  have 
seen  that  you  are  not  yourself.  Well,  we  have 
dined.  We  have  talked  our  nonsense.  We  may 
be  serious.  What  was  it  you  meant  by  the  remark 
you  made  in  the  carriage?  What  has  happened? 
What  has  made  you  uneasy?  Tell  us." 

The  Baron  put  his  hand  on  'Toinette's  arm  as  if 
to  caution  her. 

She  glanced  at  me  as  she  said  to  him,  with 
an  understanding  smile,  in  which  was  a  tinge  of 
the  sadness  I  fancied  I  saw  in  her  eyes  that  night  in 
the  cafe: 


Marcel    Levignet  257 

"  Have  no  fear.  I  guess  that  M.  Summerville 
is  in  the  confidence  of  our  friend." 

Levignet  inclined  his  head. 

"  Only  in  a  limited  degree,"  I  thought  it  judic- 
ious to  explain,  rising  from  my  chair  as  I  spoke; 
"  and  if  M.  le  Baron,  if  Mme.  le  Baronne  will 
permit  me  to  take  my  leave " 

"  Is  it  necessary?  "  'Toinette  asked  of  Levignet. 
"Is  it  desirable?" 

"  M.  Summerville  is  more  trustworthy  than  I," 
replied  Levignet,  who  had  surrendered  to  melan- 
choly and  lapsed  into  the  gloominess  of  our  tete-a- 
tete  at  Suresnes. 

"  Then  we  shall  take  it  as  a  favour  if  Monsieur 
will  remain." 

I  thanked  the  Baroness  for  her  graciousness,  and 
reluctantly  went  to  a  seat  in  the  window  recess.  I 
should  have  been  glad  to  escape,  and  I  was  sure, 
too,  that  de  Noel  would  have  preferred  to  bow  me 
out ;  but  he  seemed  to  regard  acquiescence  in  'Toin- 
ette's  will  so  much  as  a  matter  of  course  that  I  could 
not  profit  by  the  slight  shrug  that  qualified  his  af- 
firmative gesture. 


XXXI 

THERE  was  silence  during  some  moments, 
Levignet  twisting  his  moustache  ab- 
stractedly, de  Noel  and  'Toinette  waiting 
expectantly. 

When  Levignet  did  speak,  it  was  as  if  he  were 
talking  to  himself,  his  chin  on  his  breast,  his  eyes 
looking  absently  at  the  rug  which  he  tapped  with 
his  foot. 

"  I  have  read  somewhere — in  Hugo,  doubtless — 
of  a  gunner  through  whose  carelessness  a  cannon 
got  loose  in  the  gun-room  of  a  ship,  endangering 
the  lives  of  the  crew  and  putting  the  vessel  itself 
in  peril.  The  great  gun,  feeling  itself  free,  de- 
structive, plunged  here  and  there  with  the  roll  of 
the  boat,  battering,  crushing,  slaying;  terrible, — a 
devil,  a  fury.  The  man  grappled  with  the  monster 
— Yes ;  it  was  Hugo.  No  one  but  the  master  could 
have  described  that  struggle,  and  the  triumph  of 
the  man,  the  mastery,  the  chaining  of  the  gun  in 
place.  Well,  you  can  say  what  happened.  The 
gunner  was  taken  on  deck,  decorated  and  shot. 
There  is  not  a  finer  picture  of  exact  justice  in  his- 
tory. The  heroism  was  fitly  rewarded;  the  crim- 
inal blunder  was  suitably  punished.  Well,  I  have 
blundered  as  culpably  as  did  the  gunner;  but  I  have 

258 


Marcel    Levignet  259 

not,  like  him,  retrieved  my  fault.  You  shall  judge 
me;  you  shall  condemn  me." 

Levignet  presented  an  appearance  of  such  dejec- 
tion that  'Toinette,  leaning  forward,  put  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  to  say: 

"  Take  heart,  my  friend ;  you  speak  to  those  who 
love  you." 

"  When  you  know  what  I  have  done,  you  will 
not  say  that.  I  have  forfeited  your  trust,  and  with 
that  goes  your  affection." 

"  Let  us  judge  of  that,  my  friend,"  de  Noel  said, 
with  a  deprecatory  gesture. 

"Ah!  you  shall." 

Much  in  the  fashion  of  a  judge  reviewing  the 
conduct  of  a  culprit  he  is  about  to  condemn,  Lev- 
ignet recited  the  salient  parts  of  the  story  he  had 
told  to  me,  giving  no  softening  colour  to  his  mis- 
chance, omitting  everything  favourable  to  himself, 
describing  Madame  Clifton's  use  of  the  whip  as  a 
merited  chastisement,  saying  nothing  of  the  money 
of  which  he  had  been  so  impudently  defrauded. 

The  Baron  made  frequent  exclamations  of  aston- 
ishment or  indignation,  as  the  various  incidents 
were  rehearsed;  but  'Toinette  listened  in  silence, 
though  her  eyes  were  eloquent  enough,  until  he 
ended  with  a  reference  to  the  defection  of  old  Suzel 
as  the  proper  estimate  of  his  forfeiture;  then  she 
went  to  him,  bent  down  and  kissed  him  on  the  cheek 
still  marked  by  the  stripe  of  the  whip. 


2<5o  Marcel    Levignet 

Levignet  looked  up. 

"  That  is  your  answer  to  what  I  have  said?  " 

"  And  well  answered,  too,  my  friend,"  declared 
the  Baron,  reaching  out  his  hand  to  Levignet. 

'"  Ah !  you  humiliate  me,"  said  Levignet  as  he 
took  de  Noel's  hand.  "  I  was  better  prepared  for 
your  reproach." 

"  Then  you  were  disloyal  to  our  friendship," 
'Toinette  objected. 

"  That  is  true,  Levignet.  We  have  the  right  to 
quarrel  with  you  for  that.  But  •  come.  Let  us 
consider  the  matter  fairly.  To  begin  with,  you 
blame  yourself  extravagantly.  Beyond  the  outrage 
you  have  suffered — and  we  must  take  account  of 
that — no  serious  harm  has  been  done.  You  have 
not,  as  you  seem  to  think,  made  the  situation  more 
threatening  than  it  was.  Do  you  imagine  the  Clif- 
ton is  readier  than  before  to  expose  herself  in  an 
attempt  to  injure  my  wife  ?  Pardon  me  for  saying 
it,  but  the  matter  is  clearer  to  my  eyes  than  it  has 
been  to  yours — for  you  have  been  blinded  by  a  sen- 
timental extravagance  that  has  raised  molehills  to 
mountains  in  your  fancy.  You  have  allowed  your- 
self to  believe  that  'Toinette  has  something  to  fear 
from  the  Clifton " 

"  While  that  woman  is  alive,  there  is  always  the 
danger  that  she  will  attempt " 

"  Bah !  "  said  de  Noel,  interrupting  Levignet. 
"  I  must  persuade  you  to  the  contrary,  as  I  long  ago 


Marcel   Levignet  261 

persuaded  'Toinette  herself,  who  had  a  terror  of 
coming  to  Paris  with  me,  but  who  has  found  in 
these  two  years  that  the  way  to  dispel  shadows  is 
to  keep  in  the  light.  Madame  Clifton!  good 
heaven !  we  are  as  safe  from  molestation  by  her  as 
if  she  were  buried  under  the  Pyramids.  You  would 
have  seen  that  as  clearly  as  I  do  if  you  had  not  been 
so  fearfully  in  love  with  my  wife." 

Levignet  sat  up  with  a  jerk,  his  face  flushing  and 
paling  as  he  looked,  startled  and  confused,  at  de 
Noel. 

"  In  love  with  your  wife,  Baron  de  Noel !  " 

De  Noel  laughed  cheerily. 

"Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,  my  friend;  and, 
above  all,  do  not  affront  'Toinette  by  denying  it. 
Mon  Dieu !  Do  you  think,  because  you  go  blind- 
folded yourself,  that  no  one  else  can  see  ?  "  He 
laughed  again,  and  tapped  Levignet's  knee  with 
his  finger.  "  If  I  were  not  as  sure  of  'Toinette's 
heart-beats  as  I  am  of  my  own,  I  might  let  jealousy 
in  as  a  tenant  of  some  dusty  corner  of  my  brain, — 
and  what  woman  could  be  blamed  for  indulging  a 
weakness  for  that  Jovian  head  and  the  soul  that 
keeps  house  in  it?  Come,  come — let  us  have  the 
smile  that  belongs  on  your  lips  and  the  twinkle  that 
softens  your  eye — for,  let  me  tell  you,  a  large  part 
of  the  affection  I  have  for  you  is  due  to  your  appre- 
ciation of  my  wife." 

Levignet,  troubled,  embarrassed,  for  once  quite 


262  Marcel    Levignet 

at  a  loss  for  a  word  to  say,  was  half  inclined  to  be 
angry  with  de  Noel.  'Toinette  prettily  turned  to 
good  account  the  frown  that  began  knitting  his 
eyebrows. 

"  Does  it  vex  you  to  be  suspected  of  caring  for 
me?"  she  asked,  and,  before  he  could  answer, 
added,  "  As  for  me,  it  gives  me  pleasure  to  think 
you  do." 

What  could  Levignet  do  but  take  the  hand 
she  held  out  to  him,  stammer  a  half  intelligible 
banality  over  it,  and  hide  it  for  a  moment  beneath 
the  sweep  of  his  moustache  ? 

"  I  repeat,"  said  de  Noel,  "  that  there  is  no 
reason  why  we  should  be  apprehensive  or  you 
should  blame  yourself,  Levignet.  The  damage 
done  is  that  you  have  been  struck " 

"  And  robbed,"  I  could  not  help  interposing,  as 
I  came  from  the  window  to  remind  them  of  my 
presence,  which  they  seemed  in  a  way  to  forget. 

"  Robbed !  "  exclaimed  de  Noel  and  'Toinette 
together. 

"Chut!  Summerville,"  said  Levignet  warn- 
ingly;  but  without  in  the  least  heeding  him,  I  told 
them  of  the  knavery  by  which  he  had  been  eased  of 
the  one  hundred  thousand  francs. 

There -were  no  bounds  to  their  astonishment  and 
indignation,  but  they  were  not  the  least  disposed  to 
take  Levignet's  quixotic  view  of  the  necessity  for 
inaction. 


Marcel    Levignet  263 

"  It  is  too  monstrous  1  You  have  suffered  the 
greatest  indignity  on  my  account,  and  been  robbed 
of  a  fortune,  and  you  think  we  will  permit  you  to 
keep  silence !  Do  you  imagine  my  husband  and  I 
will  find  my  protection  in  the  sacrifice  of  a  friend?  " 

"  Devil  take  it,  Levignet,"  said  de  Noel,  "  you 
shall  set  your  friend  the  Prefect  onto  this  indescrib- 
able coquin,  or  I  must  take  it  upon  myself  to  make 
an  occasion  to  run  a  rapier  through  whatever  is 
vital  in  him." 

"  In  order  that  next  day  every  rag  of  a  news- 
paper can  make  free  with  the  name  of  Madame  the 
Baroness !  That  every  boulevard  gossip-mongery 
may  add  its  invention  to  the  tale  of  slander!  And 
you  will  have  accomplished  what  ?  " 

"  You  would  pay  too  dearly  for  the  privilege  of 
kicking  a  rat  into  the  sewer,"  I  ventured  to  suggest, 
looking  at  the  Baron. 

"  That  is  precisely  the  true  word,"  Levignet  as- 
serted. 

"  But  to  let  the  scoundrel  triumph  I — to  let  him 
laugh  at  us !  "  de  Noel  exclaimed  passionately, 
thumping  the  table  and  rising  to  his  feet.  "  It  is 
intolerable.  We  shall  contrive  a  revenge.  As  for 
the  amount  you  have  lost " 

"  That  is  not  to  be  considered,"  Levignet  ob- 
jected. "  It  is  scarcely  more  than  the  twentieth 
part  of  a  fortune  that  I  have  always  found  super- 
fluous, and  which  I  would  cheerfully  devote  to  the 


264  Marcel    Levignet 

service  of  " — Levignet  hesitated  an  instant — "  any 
friend  who  would  do  me  the  honour  to  make  use 
of  it,"  he  added,  with  a  gesture  intended  to  give 
quite  an  impersonal  character  to  his  benevolence. 

'Toinette  made  a  sign  of  grateful  negation,  while 
de  Noel  replied: 

"  Be  that  as  it  may,  a  way  must  be  found  to  re- 
cover your  money,  or  I  shall  make  good  your  loss." 

Levignet,  looking  sidewise  at  de  Noel,  and  pull- 
ing an  end  of  his  moustache  beneath  his  chin,  said 
smilingly : 

"  Do  you  know,  Baron,  that  I  stopped  a  Prus- 
sian bullet  with  my  knee  while  performing  an  act  of 
thoughtless  folly,  for  which  someone  thought  fit  to 
give  me  a  decoration  of  some  sort?  " 

"  I  know  you  have  several  deeds  of  heroism  to 
your  credit,"  answered  de  Noel,  rather  nonplussed, 
"  but  I  don't  see " 

"The  decoration?"  Levignet  interrupted. 
"  No.  I  never  wear  it.  The  trifling  difficulty  I 
have  with  my  knee  reminds  me  better  than  could 
medal  or  ribbon  that  I  once  did  some  good  in  an 
emergency."  He  gave  a  droll  glance  at  the  bit  of 
ribbon  in  de  Noel's  buttonhole.  "  All  sorts  of 
people  wear  decorations  for  all  sort  of  reasons;  but 
everyone  cannot  boast  of  having  half  an  ounce  of 
Prussian  lead  neatly  tucked  away  in  the  bone." 

The  others  laughed  at  his  pretended  vanity  in 
giving  his  knee  an  approving  pat,  and  there  was  a 


Marcel    Levignet  265 

tacit  acquiscence  on  their  part  in  his  obvious  desire 
to  avoid  serious  discussion. 

"  I'm  afraid  the  Legion  of  Honour  would  have 
to  go  out  of  business  if  the  price  of  its  ribbons  were 
half-ounces  in  the  bone,"  'Toinette  said  as  she 
blinked  roguishly  at  the  Baron. 

"Ah I  I  see,"  de  Noel  chuckled,  following  her 
lead,  "  you  both  undertake  to  disparage  the  merit 
of  my  little  knot  of  red  because  it  was  won  in  the 
diplomatic  service.  But  let  me  tell  you  that,  when 
diplomacy  becomes  an  honest  science  instead  of  a 
political  craft,  the  state  will  have  no  use  for  soldiers 
— unless  we  keep  a  company  here  and  there  for  the 
amusement  of  the  rabble,  much  as  we  keep  com- 
panies of  actors.  But  what  the  deuce,  Levignet, 
has  your  Prussian  souvenir  to  do  with  what  we  were 
saying?  " 

"  Only  this;  when  I  am  about  to  curse  the  twinge 
in  my  knee,  I  soothe  myself  with  the  recollection 
that  I  came  by  it  in  a  way  not  entirely  to  my  dis- 
credit. On  the  other  hand,  if  I  ever  come  to  have 
a  pang  on  account  of  my  stolen  francs,  I  shall  have 
an  instant  anodyne  in  the  reflection  that  their  loss 
was  an  exceedingly  mild  punishment  of  a  most 
egregious  blunder  on  my  part.  You  understand 
that  both  my  wounds,  the  one  in  my  leg  and  the 
one  in  my  vanity,  are  of  such  inestimable  value  as 
correctives  of  my  character  that  I  would,  for  no 
consideration,  be  deprived  of  either." 


266  Marcel    Levignet 

"That  may  be  philosophic;  it  is  not,  however, 
practical,"  de  Noel  declared.  "  But  I  won't  argue 
with  you.  You  are  too  obstinate  to  be  convinced 
by  anything  but  your  own  opinion.  Haven't  we 
found  that  to  be  the  fact,  cherie?  " 

"  Undoubtedly,"  Toinette  laughed.  "  We  must 
do  with  him  as  we  do  with  children — find  a  way  to 
make  him  swallow  his  medicine  without  knowing 
it.  You  should  take  it  in  a  lump  of  sugar,  man 


ami!' 


"  I  know  precisely  the  answer  to  that  speech," 
Levignet  said,  nodding  his  head  sagely  at  'Toinette, 
and  smiling. 

"  Make  it ! "  de  Noel  tapped  him  on  the  arm. 
"  You  need  not  consider  me." 

"  It  is  made,"  Levignet  retorted.  "  A  beautiful 
woman  is  always  clairaudient.  You  have  but  to 
look  into  her  eyes  and  she  hears  the  tribute  of  your 
emotions." 

"  That  is  a  poetical  fancy  too  delicate  for  my 
prosaic  wits,"  'Toinette  objected.  "  Besides,  I  like 
tangible  sweets.  I  have  not  enough  imagination 
for  a  Barmecide  pastime."  There  was  a  provoking 
prettiness  in  her  smile. 

"A  challenge,  Levignet,"  de  Noel  exclaimed. 
*  You  cannot  escape  it.  Now,  then,  for  an  im- 
promptu in  the  form  of  a  quotation  from  the  book 
of  gallantry." 

While  de  Noel  was  speaking,  a  footman  came  in 


Marcel    Levignet  267 

with  a  letter,  and  Levignet,  waving  his  hand  in  the 
direction  of  the  fellow,  said,  a  la  Coquelin. 

"  Behold,  it  is  borne  to  you  on  a  salver." 

"  For  Madame  the  Baroness,"  said  the  lackey. 

"Forme?" 

"  By  hand,  madame." 

'Toinette,  who  had  been  holding  a  light  to  my 
cigarette,  took  up  the  letter,  looked  curiously  at  the 
address,  which  puzzled  her,  turned  the  envelope  to 
see  if  there  was  a  seal  at  the  back,  and  declared 
ruefully : 

"  I  haven't  an  idea  who  it  is  from." 

"  An  excellent  reason  for  returning  it  unopened," 
de  Noel  said,  offering  to  take  the  letter  from  her 
hand. 

"  You  are  making  fun  of  me,"  'Toinette  laughed, 
as  she  tore  the  envelope  across,  "  not  knowing  that 
most  letters  are  interesting  only  while  they  are 
sealed."  She  nodded  to  dismiss  the  footman,  and 
unfolded  the  letter. 

"  You  have  never  had  an  opportunity  of  corre- 
sponding with  me,"  retorted  de  Noel. 

'Toinette  glanced  at  Levignet,  and  then  at  me. 

"  You  permit  me  to  read  it?  " 

Anticipating  our  assent,  she  held  the  letter  to- 
ward one  of  the  candles  and  began  reading.  But 
at  the  first  words,  she  uttered  a  subdued  cry,  and 
her  expression  of  gaiety  turned  to  one  of  blank 
consternation. 


268  Marcel    Levignet 

"  It  is  from  Madame  Clifton !  " 

"The  devil!"  exclaimed  de  Noel,  taking  the 
letter  she  impulsively  thrust  toward  him. 

Levignet  abruptly  uncrossed  his  legs  and  grasped 
the  arms  of  his  chair  as  if  about  to  rise. 

"  What  does  she  say?  "  he  asked,  leaning  toward 
de  Noel. 

"  Humph !  "  said  the  Baron,  and  then  began 
reading  aloud. 

"  *  Madame  Clifton  presents  her  compliments  to 
the  Baroness  de  Noel,  and  begs  leave  to  express  her 
astonishment  at  the  stupidity  that  has  so  long  pre- 
vented her  identifying  the  popular  and  charming 
Baroness  with  her  old  friend,  M'lle  Beaudais.  Ma- 
dame Clifton  is  grieved  to  think  that  the  delayed 
recognition  has  been  due  to  the  fact  that  the  Baron- 
ess de  Noel  has  been  at  pains  to  avoid  personally 
meeting  her  once  trusted  friend,  and  would  be  glad 
to  learn  from  the  Baroness  if  an  opportunity  may 
be  granted  for  an  explanation  that  may  restore 
friendly  relations.  Madame  Clifton  had  under- 
stood that  the  Baron  de  Noel  had  married  an  Eng- 
lish lady,  which  may  in  a  measure  account  for  the 
fact  that  she  did  not  see  in  the  new  Baroness  the 
less  splendid  and  less  beautiful  Antoinette  Beau- 
dais,  whom  she  had  known  in  sadder  circumstances. 
Madame  Clifton  would  be  pleased  to  call  on  the 
Baroness  de  Noel,  if  that  lady  will  graciously  ap- 
point a  time.  To  avoid  the  uncertainty  of  the  post, 


Marcel    Levignet  269 

the  bearer  of  this  note  will  wait  to  receive  the 
answer.' ' 

Levignet  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and  stood  clutch- 
ing the  back  of  the  chair,  his  face  pale  with  anger. 
'Toinette  was  motionless  and  haggard. 

Neither  of  them  spoke  when  de  Noel  stopped, 
and  in  silence  he  went  to  the  bell-rope,  which  he 
gave  a  violent  pull. 

The  footman  re-entered  the  room  as  if  he  had 
been  in  readiness  for  the  summons. 

"  Is  there  a  messenger  waiting?  " 

"  Yes,  M.  le  Baron." 

"  Tell  him  there  is  no  answer." 

The  footman  retired,  and  de  Noel  returned  to 
his  chair. 

"  She  threatens  us,"  'Toinette  said  piteously, 
looking  at  de  Noel  as  if  the  danger  were  his  rather 
than  her  own. 

"  It  means  war — but — "  de  Noel  crushed  the 
letter  in  his  hand — "  have  no  fear,  mon  amie;  we 
shall  triumph." 

"  You  will  be  ruined,"  she  moaned.  "  I  foresaw 
it.  The  crime  of  which  I  have  to  repent  is  that  I 
let  you  sacrifice  yourself  by  marrying  me." 

De  Noel  went  to  her  side,  took  her  two  hands 
in  his,  raised  her  to  her  feet,  and  kissed  her  fore- 
head. 

"  That  I  have  the  right  to  defend  you  makes  me 
the  happiest  man  in  the  world.  You  gave  me  your 


2/o  Marcel    Levignet 

hand,  but  I  have  always  had  a  romantic  wish  to 
win  it." 

"  Ah !  it  is  the  lightning  from  the  clear  sky.  You 
are  its  victim,  not  I." 

She  snatched  away  her  hands  from  de  Noel  and, 
greatly  agitated,  hurried  toward  the  door,  intend- 
ing, no  doubt,  to  hide  in  the  privacy  of  her  own 
room  the  emotion  she  felt  unable  to  restrain. 

Levignet,  who  had  stood  in  statuesque  silence, 
called  out  to  her,  and  went  to  prevent  her  opening 
the  door.  It  was  evident  to  me  that  he  feared  to 
let  her  go  by  herself. 

"  Wait,"  said  he.  "  It  is  for  me  to  act.  My 
idiocy  has  brought  matters  to  this  crisis;  it  is  my 
office  to  shield  you  from  the  consequences  of  my 
folly.  I  beg  you  to  rest  assured  that  I  shall  relieve 
you  of  all  anxiety.  I  have  a  plan  that  has  come  to 
me  as  an  inspiration.  It  cannot  fail  to  extricate  you 
from  the  present  danger  and  free  your  mind  from 
any  fear  of  Madame  Clifton.  Will  you  trust 
me?" 

"  I  have  always  trusted  you,  my  friend." 

"  You  shall  find  that  your  trust  is  not  misplaced," 
Levignet  declared,  an  unwonted  tremor  in  his 
voice.  He  held  her  hand  for  a  moment,  and  then 
led  her  back  to  the  table,  where  de  Noel  stood 
moodily  uncertain. 

"  Baron,"  asked  Levignet,  "  will  you  be  guided 
by  my  advice?  " 


Marcel    Levignet  271 

"  At  least,  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  it." 

"  It  is  that  the  Baroness  write  at  once  to  Madame 
Clifton,  inviting  her  to  come  here  in  the  afternoon 
of  Friday — three  days  from  now." 

"  My  wife  invite  that  woman !  "  exclaimed  de 
Noel.  "  It  is  not  to  be  thought  of." 

"  It  will  give  me  time  to  put  my  plan  into  oper- 
ation, and — Madame  Clifton  will  not  come." 

"  What  is  your  plan?  " 

"  That  you  shall  learn  in  its  success." 

"  M.  Levignet  is  wise,  mon  ami"  said  'Toin- 
ette,  pleadingly.  "  I  have  faith  in  his  word." 

;'  Very  well,"  said  de  Noel,  after  a  pause;  "  you 
shall  write." 

"  Send  it  at  once  by  messenger,"  Levignet  urged. 
He  took  out  his  watch.  "  It  is  ten  o'clock.  M. 
Summerville  and  I  have  an  engagement  for  half- 
past.  You  will  excuse  us  ?  " 

"  And  when  shall  we  see  you  again?  " 

"  To-morrow,  perhaps,  or  the  day  after."  Then, 
turning  to  'Toinette,  "  You  will  abate  none  of  your 
social  gaieties.  You  will  not  let  it  appear  that  any- 
thing has  occurred  to  disturb  your  serenity.  You 
have  numerous  engagements?  " 

"  No.  You  know  everyone  is  occupied  this 
week  with  the  Charity  Bazaar." 

"  At  any  rate,  wherever  you  go,  let  no  one  see  a 
cloud  on  your  gaiety." 

"  You  are  mysterious,"  said  de  Noel. 


272  Marcel    Levignet 

"No;  only  precautionary.  Good-night.  And 
believe  in  me." 

Either  his  good  humour  had  returned,  or  he 
acted  excellently,  for  he  laughed  cheerily  as  he 
shook  hands  with  them,  declaring : 

"  I  have  a  capital  plan  to  put  this  enemy  to  rout. 
It  will  become  a  jest  with  us  in  our  future  cosy  chats 
over  your  faultless  wine,  Baron.  You  shall  see  if 
Levignet  has  the  wit  to  correct  his  errors.  You 
shall  not  be  at  the  trouble  to  air  your  salon  after  a 
visit  from  Madame  Clifton.  Come,  my  dilatory 
Summerville ;  we  shall  miss  our  engagement." 

We  went  arm-in-arm  down  the  stairs,  and  Lev- 
ignet tossed  a  ten-franc  piece  to  the  astonished 
lackey  who  served  us  as  we  passed  through  the 
great  doorway. 

"Where  shall  we  go?"  he  demanded  as  we 
reached  the  pavement. 

'  You  made  the  engagement,"  I  replied  laugh- 
ingly. 

"  Then,  let  us  walk  as  our  legs  take  us." 


XXXII 

HE  was  not  communicative  as  we  wandered 
aimlessly,  and  only  replied  to  my  casual 
remarks    in     a     self-absorbed     fashion. 
Finally,  when  we  were  in  the  dim  seclusion  of  the 
Cours  la  Reine,  I  ventured  the  question  that  had 
been  piquing  my  curiosity: 

"  Have  you  really  a  plan  to  muzzle  the  Clif- 
ton?" 

11  Effectually." 

"It  is  your  secret? " 

"  I  have  no  secrets  from  you,  friend  Summer- 
ville.  You  are  my  fidus  Achates.  But  I  hesitate 
to  put  you  in  peril  by  making  you  my  confidant  in 
this." 

"  I  should  be  in  good  company  if  I  share  the 
peril  with  you." 

"  No.  I  should  make  you  my  accomplice.  I 
don't  need  an  accomplice  in  this.  If  I  did,  I  should 
not  involve  you,  my  boy;  I  should  hunt  out  some 
such  fellow  as  my  old  friend  Benoist,  if  he  is 
still  at  large.  A  trusty  fellow  is  the  admirable 
Benoist." 

"  Good  God !  Levignet,  you  don't  mean  that  you 

contemplate ' ' 

273 


274  Marcel    Levignet 

"  I  do,"  he  interrupted  carelessly,  anticipating 
what  I  hesitated  to  say. 

I  stopped  still,  dumfoundedly  looking  at  him  as 
he  turned  inquiringly. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

"  You  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing,  Levignet !  "  I 
stammered. 

"  My  dear  Summerville,  I  served  three  years  as 
a  hired  assassin  in  state  livery,  and  I  remember 
once  to  have  sabred  a  lad  whose  mother's  milk  was 
scarce  dry  in  his  mouth,  and  for  no  better  reason 
than  that  he  wore  a  foreign  uniform.  In  the  name 
of  a  hundred  thunders,  shall  a  man  who  has  done 
that  scruple  to  crunch  a  scorpion  under  his  heel !  " 
He  turned  fiercely,  clutched  me  by  the  lapel  of  my 
coat  and,  glaring  into  my  eyes,  said  in  a  tense 
whisper,  "  I  tell  you,  Summerville,  I  shall  kill  that 
woman !  " 

"  No,  no !  Levignet.'' 

"  Yes,  yes !  Summerville.     It  is  the  only  way." 

"  You  are  mad,  Levignet!  " 

"Yes,  mad,  thank  God!" 

He  took  off  his  hat,  thrust  the  thick  locks  of 
white  hair  from  his  forehead,  readjusted  his  hat, 
and  walked  on  some  distance  in  silence.  I  followed 
him  mechanically,  my  mind  dumb  and  inert,  a 
vague  fear  at  my  heart  as  if  he  were  on  his  way 
toward  the  deed,  and  I  powerless  to  hinder  him. 

Suddenly  he  wheeled  around,  took  me  by  the 


Marcel    Levignet 

arm  and,  in  his  usual  easy  humour,  said  with  a 
chuckle  of  expectancy : 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do, — we'll  spend  an 
hour  at  the  *  Ambassadeurs.'  There  is  a  droll  fel- 
low who  makes  me  laugh.  I  predict  he  will  be  a 
card  some  day.  Come." 


XXXIII 

WE  entered  the  enclosure  of  the  open  air 
resort  that  depends  so  largely  for  its 
existence  upon  the  patronage  of  inquisi- 
tive foreigners;  but,  instead  of  looking  for  seats 
among  the  chairs  under  the  trees,  Levignet  led  the 
way  to  the  pavilion  at  the  end  of  the  garden,  and 
we  mounted  to  a  table  in  the  loggia.  There  was 
so  must '  zest  and  lightness  in  his  manner,  he 
spoke  so  banteringly  and  made  such  droll  com- 
ments on  the  "  divette  "  who  was  just  then  enter- 
taining the  audience,  that  I  began  to  recover  from 
the  alarm  caused  by  his  desperate  speech  in  the 
Cours  la  Reine. 

"What  will  you  have,  Summerville?  Sherry? 
For  myself,  I  shall  need  a  sedative  of  brandy. 
When  my  brain  is  capricious  in  its  fancies  and  plays 
at  cache-cache  with  my  judgment,  a  bumper  of 
brandy  restores  it  to  reasonable  order.  Folly  ani- 
mates— brandy  adjusts.  A  large  glass  of  brandy, 
garqon,  some  of  your  best  cigars  and  a  chopine  of 
sherry  for  Monsieur.  We  shall  be  comfortable. 
Possibly  you  are  hungry.  No  ?  Nor  I.  My  ob- 
jection to  dining  with  de  Noel  is  that  he  has  picked 
up  a  damnably  seductive  cook  who  tempts  me  to 

276 


Marcel    Levignet  277 

overfeed.  Ah  I  "  with  a  quick  deprecatory  ges- 
ture, "  those  are  your  countrymen  and  the  English. 
We  French  merely  suffer  these  things." 

His  last  half  contemptuous  remark  referred  to 
the  noisy  applause  with  which  the  "  divette  "  was 
being  recalled. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Levignet,  you  French  are  rather 
given  to  foisting  your  infirmities  upon  the  shoulders 
of  your  foreign  guests.  Your  press  has  some  very 
fondling  terms  for  these  lively  ladies." 

"  Bah !  Those  are  but  echoes  of  the  promenoir. 
The  press  does  not  herald  these  friponnes  until  the 
claque  and  the  imbeciles  have  given  them  a  vogue. 
You  see,  friend  Summerville,  Paris  is  the  unmask- 
ing ground  of  hypocritic  Christendom.  There  is  a 
tradition  among  you  vagrants  from  the  four  cor- 
ners of  the  earth  that  nothing  counts  in  Paris;  and 
the  moment  you  get  your  lungs  filled  with  the  at- 
mosphere of  our  boulevards,  you  kick  free  from 
habitual  restraints  of  thought  and  conduct,  and  sur- 
render to  the  promptings  of  your  native  devil. 
That  is  why  you  fly  where  catins  like  M'lle  Thing- 
umbob there  display  themselves,  passing  the  limits 
of  decency,  caterwauling  in  their  fish-vendor  voices 
salacities  that  tickle  the  vicious,  and  making  ges- 
tures that  inform  the  innocent.  You  applaud  what 
makes  you  blush,  and  excuse  yourselves  by  pretend- 
ing to  think  it  clever.  Clever!  It  is  the  clever- 
ness of  the  kitchen-wench  who  makes  a  spiced 


278  Marcel    Levignet 

stew  out  of  the  scrapings  of  dinner-plates  left  by  a 
company  of  sloppy  gluttons.  It  is  nauseous  to 
sanity." 

He  made  a  grimace  at  the  fancied  dish,  and 
drank  off  at  once  half  the  glass  of  brandy  the  waiter 
set  before  him. 

"  I  agree  with  you.  And,  speaking  of  sanity,  I 
must  confess  that  I  was  fool  enough  to  be  fright- 
ened by  what  you  said  a  while  ago." 

"What  was  that?" 

"  I  mean  your  extravagant  threat  concerning 
Madame  Clifton." 

"  Humph !    Was  it  extravagant?  " 

"  I  have  too  noble  an  opinion  of  you  to  imagine 
otherwise." 

"  That  you  think  nobly  of  another  man  argues 
nobility  in  yourself,  Summerville.  You  have  a  gen- 
erous sentiment,  and  I  am  pleased  to  have  the  bene- 
fit of  it.  But  you  are  not  an  abstract  reasoner. 
You  lack  the  inductive  faculty.  You  cannot  con- 
struct a  syllogism  backwards.  By  the  way,  do  you 
know  the  story  of  old  Baneban  and  the  Queen  of 
Hungary  ?  " 

"  I  don't  recall  it." 

"  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  as  talk  banalities. 
It  is  an  interesting  bit  of  history,  and  it  may  help 
you  to  another  word  than  *  extravagant'  with  which 
to  characterise  my  purpose." 

"  Your  '  purpose,'  Levignet?  " 


Marcel    Levignet  279 

"  You  shall  judge.  Listen  to  my  story  and 
catch  the  merit  of  it.  It  was  in  the  reign  of  Andre 
the  Second,  far  enough  away  to  exempt  us  from  a 
charge  of  lese-majeste  in  repeating  the  scandal. 
This  Baneban  was  palatine  of  the  kingdom,  and  his 
long-proved  zeal  and  fidelity  had  established  him 
in  the  confidence  of  the  king,  so  that  when  it  became 
necessary  for  Andre  to  go  to  Constantinople  to 
negotiate  a  peace  with  the  neighbouring  princes,  he 
felt  perfectly  secure  in  leaving  Baneban  as  regent. 
*  I  leave  you',  said  Andre,  *  no  other  instructions 
than  this:  Deal  in  exact  justice  with  all  of  my 
subjects  without  regard  to  questions  of  birth  or 
dignity,'  which,  I  need  not  tell  you,  sums  up  the 
whole  office  of  reputable  sovereignty.  Now  the  wife 
of  Baneban — devil  take  me  if  I  can  remember  her 
name,  but  Constance  is  a  suitable  one,  and  I'll  use 
it — was  young,  charming  and  of  a  beauty  that  in- 
fluences loose  men  to  dream  of  damnation.  It  hap- 
pened in  her  case  that  there  was  as  much  chastity 
as  fascination,  and  she  enjoyed  the  respect  of  the 
Court,  which,  as  courts  go,  is  saying  a  good  deal. 
But,  soon  after  the  departure  of  the  king,  the 
queen's  younger  brother,  the  Count  of  Moravia, 
came  to  visit  his  royal  sister,  and — I  must  stick  to 
the  facts  of  history — promptly  committed  the  indis- 
cretion of  falling  fathoms  deep  in  love  with  the 
palatiness.  When  the  acquaintance  had  matured 
into  intimacy  through  a  week  of  fetes,  pleasures 


28o  Marcel    Levignet 

and  gaieties,  the  count,  with  the  impudent  courage 
of  a  practised  gallant,  seized  an  occasion  to  declare 
his  passion  to  Constance.  But  that  lady — I  recall 
the  exact  words  of  the  old  historiographer — but 
that  lady,  even  more  virtuous  than  she  was  beau- 
tiful, only  responded  to  his  overture  by  the  severity 
of  her  looks.  You  may  think  that  a  sufficiently 
mild  rebuke,  but  if  there  is  any  check  to  lawless  pas- 
sion more  potent  than  the  look  of  a  loyal  woman, 
it  is  a  matter  of  swords  and  gunpowder.  Of  course, 
the  first  resistance  had  the  usual  effect  of  stimulat- 
ing the  count's  criminal  desires ;  but  when  he  found 
that  successive  efforts  to  betray  the  lady  only  re- 
sulted in  widening  the  distance  that  separated  them, 
the  count  declined  into  such  a  melancholy  that  the 
queen,  alarmed  for  his  health,  brought  him  to  a 
confession  of  his  ailment.  It  is  not  my  purpose  to 
moralise  for  your  benefit,  friend  Summerville,  and 
you  may  make  your  own  mental  comments  on  the 
nature  of  the  queen's  complaisance  in  undertaking 
to  arrange  the  matter  for  the  gratification  of  her 
brother's  passion.  I  only  tell  you  the  facts.  Eh, 
bien!  The  queen  counselled  the  count  to  dissimu- 
late his  sentiments  under  a  respectful  address,  until 
such  time  as  the  confidence  of  Constance  could  be 
re-established,  and  that  lady  induced  to  return  to 
the  court  intimacy  from  which  she  had  withdrawn 
to  escape  the  count's  persecution.  I  refer  you  to 
the  pages  of  M.  Fillassier's  capital  historic  compi- 


Marcel    Levignet  281 

lation  for  the  proof  of  the  statement  that  the  queen, 
having  secured  Constance  in  a  remote  apartment  of 
the  palace,  opened  the  door  to  the  count,  who 
played  the  role  of  Tarquin  in  the  favourable  cir- 
cumstances. In  a  speech,  the  dignity  and  painful 
beauty  of  which  I  will  not  mar  by  an  imperfect 
quotation,  Constance  informed  Baneban  of  his  and 
her  dishonour,  lamenting  the  fact  that  religion  for- 
bade her  to  end  a  life  that  had  been  made  odious  to 
her.  The  regent  was  a  man  clean  through,  my 
friend,  and  you  may  picture  for  yourself  the  dis- 
order of  his  emotions.  But  he  clasped  his  wife  con- 
solingly in  his  arms,  declaring  to  her  that  an  invol- 
untary fault  was  rather  a  misfortune  than  a  crime, 
and  that  the  violence  done  to  her  person  had  not 
altered  the  purity  of  her  soul.  '  But,'  said  he, 
1  there  shall  be  a  vengeance  equal  to  the  enormity 
of  the  outrage.'  This  Baneban  was  not  a  fellow 
to  make  idle  threats.  Ma  foil  I  should  think 
not.  Men  of  character  are  as  careful  of  their! 
threats  as  they  are  mindful  of  other  obligations. 
In  two  days  Baneban  was  in  private  audience 
with  the  queen.  '  Madame,'  he  addressed  her 
with  the  superb  calm  of  a  great  soul,  '  you 
have  robbed  my  wife  of  her  most  precious  jewel; 
I  must  search  for  it  in  your  heart.'  And,  with 
the  word,  he  struck  his  dagger  into  her  breast. 
Leaving  her  dead  in  the  cabinet,  he  announced  to 
the  courtiers  what  he  had  done,  and  his  reason  for 


282  Marcel    Levignet 

it,  and  no  one  offering  to  prevent  him,  he  mounted 
his  horse  and,  accompanied  by  two  or  three  lords 
of  his  suite,  set  out  for  Constantinople  to  put  him- 
self into  the  hands  of  his  king.  Kneeling  before  the 
king,  and  tendering  his  sword,  he  said,  '  Sire,  in 
giving  me  your  orders  before  quitting  Hungary, 
you  urged  me  above  all  things  to  render  exact  jus- 
tice to  your  subjects  without  regard  to  rank  or  con- 
dition. I  have  done  so.  I  have  killed  the  queen, 
your  wife,  for  having  prostituted  mine.  I  bring 
you  my  head,  which  I  did  not  choose  to  save  by  an 
ignoble  flight.  Do  what  you  will  with  me,  and  let 
your  people  judge  by  my  life  or  death  whether  you 
hold  me  innocent  or  guilty.'  It  is  an  incredible  fact 
that  his  Majesty  Andre  the  Second  had  something 
in  him  to  justify  the  superstition  that  kings  are  so 
by  divine  grace.  He  did  not  furiously  chop  off 
the  head  of  our  friend  Baneban.  Mirabile  dictu, 
he  gave  back  the  regent's  sword  and  bade  him  rise. 
*  Return  to  Hungary,  my  lord,  and  continue  to  ad- 
minister justice  to  my  subjects  with  as  much  exacti- 
tude and  severity  as  you  have  rendered  it  in  your 
own  behalf.  When  I  return,  I  will  determine 
from  an  investigation  whether  your  action  deserves 
praise  or  punishment.'  It  was  excellent  art  in 
old  Fillassier  that  he  left  it  to  our  intelligence  to 
finish  his  exemplary  story  of  the  Regent  Baneban. 
I  do  not  care  what  moral  you  draw  from  it.  I 
do  not  ask  whether  you  regard  that  dagger  thrust 


Marcel    Levignet  283 

as  murder  or  the  supreme  act  of  retributive  justice; 
whether  you  execrate  Baneban  or  applaud  him; 
whether  you  drink  to  his  health  in  paradise  or 
murmur  a  prayer  for  his  soul  in  hell ;  whether  you 
think  him  madman  or  the  inexorable  minister  of 
Fate.  It  is  the  story;  you  have  it;  interpret  it  as 
you  please." 

"  Little  matter  how,  Levignet.  The  story  was 
diverting — not  to  the  purpose.  You  are  not  in 
the  case  of  Baneban.  No  Andre  the  Second  has 
appointed  you  regent  to  measure  justice  to  his 
subjects." 

"  You  are  wrong  there,  my  friend.  Virtue  is 
king  over  all,  and  every  man  is  regent  of  the  king- 
dom. The  faithful  regent  takes  counsel  of  his 
conscience,  and  accepts  its  dictation  as  the  sovereign 
will.  When  conscience  approves,  the  law  of  con- 
vention is  put  aside  that  Equity,  the  eternal  goddess 
of  true  souls,  may  have  free  course.  But  let  us 
not  fall  into  a  debate  of  principles.  I  am  stubborn 
in  the  support  of  my  convictions.  With  me  a 
fixed  idea  is  a  divine  decree,  and  not  debatable. 
Understand;  resolve;  perform.  That  is  my  ritual, 
shorn  of  superlatives.  It  is  not  in  the  tongue  of 
man  to  change  me.  I  believe  that  is  a  quotation 
from  your  Shakespeare.  I  like  its  vigour.  Ah! 
here  we  are.  This  is  my  amusing  fellow.  Listen 
to  him.  Observe  him.  Tell  me  if  I  am  not  right 
in  saying  he  will  one  day  be  a  card.  I  heard  him 


284  Marcel    Levignet 

first  in  that  hole  of  a  Bobino  in  the  Montparnasse 
quarter.  I  said  a  word  for  him.  He  is  getting 
on.  Is  there  a  better  face  for  comedy  in  France? 
Five  inches  more,  with  a  suspicion  of  added  finesse, 
and  you  might  look  for  him  in  the  Comedie  Fran- 
gaise  a  year  or  so  from  now.  The  grand  virtue 
of  us  French  is  that  we  set  up  ladders  everywhere 
by  which  merit  may  mount  to  its  deserts.  That  is 
where  the  Latins  are  superior  to  your  Anglo- 
Saxons.  Is  he  not  inimitable?" 

Levignet  laughed  at  the  fellow's  drollery,  his 
eyes  sparkling,  his  head  nodding,  and  his  hands 
pattering  approbation.  For  some  minutes  neither 
of  us  spoke.  I  could  not  believe  him  earnest  in 
his  professed  design,  and  yet  I  feared.  At  length 
I  leaned  nearer  to  him  across  the  narrow  table, 
and  touched  his  arm. 

'"  You  torture  me,  Levignet.  Give  me  the 
assurance  that  your  plan  of  action  does  not  really 
have  any  relation  to  the  role  of  a  Baneban.' 

"  Take  an  easy  mind  to  bed  with  you,  Summer- 
ville,  and  revolve  the  Italian  proverb — Che  sara 
sara.  Wise  men  never  vex  themselves  with  the 
casualties  of  to-morrow." 

"  Make  my  mind  easy  then,  old  friend.  Give 
me  the  assurance  I  ask.  Why  the  deuce  should 
you  contemplate  extreme  measures,  when  there  are 
a  thousand  alternatives?  You  are  inventive,  saga- 
cious, resourceful,  you  have  no  lack  of  money — 


Marcel    Levignet  285 

surely  you  can  serve  your  purpose  without  having 
recourse  to——" 

"  Chut!  Summerville.  I  interrupt  you  to  save 
you  from  puerilities.  You  attach  importance  to 
terms  and  shudder  at  words.  That  was  very  well 
when  your  nurse  wished  to  stop  your  fretful  whim- 
perings and  threatened  you  with  bogies.  We 
give  new  values  to  myths  when  we  have  learned 
how  to  analyse  them,  and  we  blow  out  the  candle 
without  being  afraid  of  the  dark." 

"All  the  same,  Levignet,  when  one  has  blown 
out  the  candle,  one  is  at  the  mercy  of  the  dark- 
ness." 

"  I  understand  your  parable.  But  darkness  is 
a  security,  my  friend.  I  shall  sleep  sound  in  the 
embrace  of  happy  dreams  when  a  particular  candle 
is  blown  out.  I  shall  not  regret  it.  Why  should 
you  ?  "  He  lighted  a  fresh  cigar.  "  Let  us  not 
continue  to  speak  figuratively.  It  taxes  my  inven- 
tion to  play  with  similes  and  metaphors.  Each  of 
us  is  born  into  the  world  to  discharge  an  economic 
duty  in  the  general  evolution  of  the  race.  We 
tickle  our  vanities  with  the  notion  that  the  divine 
order  requires  something  exceptional  at  our  hands, 
some  splendid  achievement,  some  dazzling  per- 
formance ;  and  we  quite  contemn  the  fact  that  the 
wriggling  white  worm,  eating  its  industrious  way 
into  the  heart  of  a  carrion,  is  serving  the  race  as 
certainly  as  a  Napoleon  who  sets  his  army  to  shovel- 


286  Marcel    Levignet 

ling  away  the  corruption  of  demoralised  dynasties. 
There  is  no  high  or  low  office  in  the  evolutionary 
plan  of  nature.  All  its  agents  are  on  a  plane  of 
equality. 

"  We  may  give  ourselves  airs  and  strut  to  our 
heart's  content;  but — butterfly  or  scavenger-bee- 
tle, lion  or  jackal,  philanthropist  or  misanthrope, 
saint  or  sinner,  judge  or  culprit,  devouring  or  de- 
voured— we  are  all  mere  atoms  in  the  outworking 
of  an  inscrutable  cosmos.  Our  equality  is  proved 
by  the  fact  that,  when  we  have  served  the  purpose 
for  which  we  are  set  in  motion,  it  is  our  common 
lot  to  rot  in  the  earth.  The  knife  of  Brutus 
weighed  as  heavily  in  the  world's  balance  as  the 
sceptre  of  Caesar.  It  was  a  flea  bite  that  saved 
an  empire  by  waking  a  prince  as  an  assassin  crept 
in  at  his  door.  Virginius,  hedged  from  the 
villainous  Appius  by  the  scurvy  lictors,  unable  to 
reach  the  tyrant,  sanctified  his  daughter's  chastity 
in  the  blood  of  her  own  sweet  breast.  Well,  my 
friend,  if  you  have  not  found  a  new  word  for  my 
*  extravagance,'  seek  for  it  in  my  tenet  that  any 
means  to  a  good  end  is  a  just  means.  I  stand 
between  Virginia  and  Appia.  Shall  I  strike  the 
innocent  when  I  can  reach  the  guilty  ?  " 

"  You  shall  strike  neither,  if  I  can  bring  you  to 


reason." 


"So?"     He  laughed  lightly.     "Reason  is  a 
tedious  mistress.     I  discarded  her  long  ago." 


Marcel    Levignet  287 

"  Tell  me  what  you  intend  doing — what  plan 
you  propose  to  follow." 

"  That  shall  be  as  Chance  and  Impulse  decide. 
I  follow  impulse.  I  came  in  here  to-night  in 
obedience  to  impulse.  I  thought  it  would  lead  to 
something.  I  have  looked  about.  There  is 
nothing  to  interest  me.  Evidently  I  let  a  secondary 
impulse  deceive  me.  Are  you  ready  to  go?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I'll  walk  toward  your  hotel  with  you." 

"  My  intention  is  to  go  home  with  you." 

"  Oh,  you  mean  to  keep  an  eye  on  me !  Very 
well.  So  be  it.  I  have  pyjamas  at  your  service; 
but  I  have  no  Suzel  to  make  you  comfortable. 
We  shall  miss  her  coffee  and  her  hot  buttered  rolls. 
Ah !  me.  I  miss  them.  Come  along,  then." 

We  talked  far  into  the  morning,  seated  in  his 
cosy  work  den,  I  serious,  pleading,  remonstrant  in 
turn;  he  jestingly  evasive  and  fantastic,  abating 
nothing  of  his  terrible  purpose,  which  he  treated 
as  lightly  as  if  the  taking  of  a  "  superfluous  life  " 
were,  indeed,  no  more  than  the  blowing  out  of  a 
candle.  Disheartened  and  racked  by  my  doubts 
and  anxieties,  unable  to  think  of  a  way  to  keep 
him  from  the  crime  or  prevent  its  success,  vaguely 
catching  at  the  possibility  of  warning  Madame 
Clifton  without  betraying  Levignet  or  provoking 
her  vindictiveness,  I  rose  at  last  to  say  good- 
night. 


288  Marcel    Levignet 

"  Good-night  and  sweet  dreams,"  he  said  cheer- 
ily, keeping  his  seat.  "  But,  one  word  before  you 
go.  I  look  into  your  mind,  my  friend.  I  know; 
I  know  there  is  a  conflict,  and  I  know  it  is  due  to 
your  concern  for  me.  Your  fears  are  on  my  ac- 
count, and  you  would  like  well  to  run  off  to  my 
friend  the  Prefect  and  make  a  clean  breast  to  him, 
to  the  end  that  old  Marcel  Levignet  may  not  run 
the  risk  of  getting  his  neck  on  the  chopp ing-block. 
Well,  look  here."  He  took  from  his  pocket  the 
metal  case  in  which  he  kept  the  ring  he  had  taken 
from  'Toinette,  and  opened  it  and  held  the  jewel 
toward  the  light.  "  Madame  Clifton  and  I  are 
both  people  very  much  in  earnest,  and  rather  reck- 
less in  carrying  out  our  schemes.  That  clever 
woman  has  considered.  She  has  gone  over  her 
ground.  Her  letter  to  the  baroness  was  the  result 
of  a  deliberate  calculation  of  all  chances.  She 
feels  so  confident  of  herself  that  she  is  resolved  to 
use  'Toinette  and  de  Noel,  or  ruin  them.  If  you 
interfere  in  her  behalf,  if  you  defeat  my  object,  it 
will  be  the  same  as  if  you  emptied  the  contents  of 
this  ring  into  the  drink  I  am  about  to  take.  I 
swear  to  you,  my  friend,  if  I  suffer  the  chagrin  of 
seeing  the  Baroness  de  Noel  the  prey  of  that 
woman,  I  will  swallow  the  powder  in  this  cache. 
Good-night." 

He  smiled  and  nodded  as  he  raised  the  glass. 

"  To  your  sweet  repose." 


XXXIV 

THE  grey  ghost  of  morning  was  filtering 
through  the  narrow  opening  of  the  care- 
lessly drawn  curtains  of  my  window  be- 
fore I  closed  my  eyes  in  a  troubled  sleep.  I  was 
awakened  by  Levignet,  who  tapped  me  on  the 
shoulder  and  called  me  by  name. 

"  Do  you  imagine,"  he  asked,  as  I  drowsily 
turned  to  look  up  at  him,  "  that  you  are  one  of 
the  seven  sleepers?  Ten  hours  of  oblivion  at  a 
stretch  is  an  impeachment  of  your  moral  fibre." 

"What  time  is  it?" 

"  Nearly  noon." 

"  Then  I  have  not  done  so  badly.  It  was  day- 
light before  I  went  to  sleep.  Have  you  been  up 
long?" 

"  I  haven't  been  to  bed.  I  took  a  cat  nap  in 
my  easy  chair;  I  had  need  of  my  time.  You  know 
your  way  to  the  bathroom?  " 

11  Yes." 

"  I  have  an  excellent  melon  in  ice  for  you;  don't 
let  it  get  too  cold.  I'm  rather  on  edge  for  a  slice 
of  it." 

"  Don't  wait  for  me." 

"  A  virtuous  melon  should  be  partaken  in  com- 
pany. A  really  good  one  is  like  an  honest  man, 

289 


290  Marcel    Levignet 

the  pick  of  ten  thousand.  I  have  laid  this  one  in 
halves  and  can  answer  for  it.  Shall  I  grill  you  a 
chop?  Or  would  you  like  a  bit  of  fish?  Or 
both?" 

"  A  small  chop  is  about  my  measure." 

"  I  am  not  peremptory,  but  I  only  allow  you 
twenty  minutes  for  your  toilet.  Will  you  have  an 
'  appetiser '  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.     I  am  normal." 

"  If  you  change  your  mind,  you  will  find  a  de- 
canter in  the  cupboard.  In  case  of  need,  ring  for 
Joseph.  Suzel's  locum  tenans,  you  understand. 
Twenty  minutes,  mind  you." 

He  shook  a  warning  finger  at  me  as  he  left  the 
room,  and  I  heard  him  go  down  the  stairs  whis- 
tling "  Home  to  our  Mountains,"  from  the  time- 
worn  opera  so  great  a  favourite  with  him.  The 
air  had  always  seemed  to  me  a  joyous  one — but  not 
as  he  whistled  it  in  deep-toned  andante.  There 
was  a  flute-like  quality  of  pathos  in  it  that  re- 
minded me  of  a  night  when  my  gondolier,  letting 
his  gondola  rock  loiteringly  under  the  Bridge  of 
Sighs,  drew  from  his  pocket  an  ocherina,  and 
played  upon  it  so  dolorously  that  I  heard  the  shuffle 
of  centuries  of  footsteps  on  the  worn  stones  over- 
head, as  the  victims  of  the  inexorable  Ten  went 
slow-pacing  to  their  doom.  A  door  closed  on 
Levignet,  but  the  whistling,  even  more  melancholy 
for  its  indistinctness,  sifted  through  the  walls  and 


Marcel    Levignet  291 

began  shaping  itself,  in  my  fancy,  into  words, 
whispering  to  me  the  sombre  thoughts  of  the 
whistler.  I  could  entertain  no  comforting  doubt 
that  Levignet  had  perfected  his  plan.  He  was 
prepared  for  the  desperate  office.  He  was  self- 
consecrated  to  the  performance  of  a  repugnant 
duty,  a  duty  from  which  he  instinctively  shrank, 
but  which  he  was  resolved  to  execute,  not  in  the 
least  concerned  with  the  consequence  to  himself. 
And  I  was  made  intuitively  aware,  too,  of  the  fact 
that  he  had  settled  in  his  mind  the  means  by  which 
to  put  his  purpose  into  effect.  The  feeling  that 
one  is  powerless  either  to  persuade  or  to  prevent  a 
friend  from  a  course  that  leads  straight  on  to  his 
ruin  may  admit  of  analysis; — but  as  I  hurried 
through  my  toilet  that  morning  I  was  conscious 
of  nothing  more  definite  than  a  nervous  dread  that 
I  should  fail  to  get  down  to  the  breakfast  room 
within  the  time  jestingly  fixed  by  Levignet.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  the  most  momentous  thing  in  the 
world  just  then  was  the  fate  of  the  cooling  melon, 
the  delicate  flavour  of  which  too  great  a  chill 
would  spoil. 

When  I  entered  the  breakfast-room,  Levignet 
sat  at  a  small  bureau  under  the  window,  writing. 
He  tossed  aside  his  pen  and  rose  with  a  compliment 
on  my  punctuality.  If  he  observed  in  my  face  the 
trouble  of  my  emotions  he  ignored  it,  ceremon- 
iously placing  a  chair  at  the  table  for  me,  as  he 


292  Marcel    Levignet 

chatted,  emptying  the  cracked  ice  from  his  share 
of  the  melon,  seating  himself  with  a  sigh  of  an- 
ticipatory enjoyment;  and  began  scooping  up  with 
his  spoon  luscious  bits  of  the  exquisite  fruit. 

"  You  cannot  get  from  your  piece  the  savour 
of  mine.  I  have  the  advantage  of  you.  I  have 
earned  the  right  to  enjoy  by  my  industry.  I  have 
been  busy  while  you  were  lolling  indolent  in  a 
bed  of  ease.  For  one  thing,  a  letter  came  from 
the  Baroness — Baroness !  It  was  signed  '  'Toin- 
ette.'  A  letter  from  'Toinette.  Quite  in  the  proper 
spirit;  inviting  me  to  spend  a  franc  or  two  at 
her  booth  in  the  bazaar  this  afternoon.  She  pre- 
tends to  a  fear  that  she  may  lack  patrons.  Ha! 
if  her  receipts  do  not  double  those  of  any  other 
lady's,  I  do  not  know  my  Parisians.  How  do  you 
find  the  melon?  " 

"  Faultless." 

"  I  have  a  fruiterer  who  finds  it  worth  while  to 
flatter  my  tastes.  Not  that  I  pay  so  much  more 
than  another;  but  I  have  been  in  trade  myself,  and 
know  the  value  of  a  pinch  of  courtesy  and  a  rec- 
ognition of  the  rights  of  man.  I  give  old  Lozet 
to  understand  that  I  esteem  his  judgment  and 
respect  his  virtues  as  a  caterer,  with  the  agree- 
able result  that  France  has  no  better  fruit  than 
finds  its  way  to  my  table.  As  with  fruit,  so  with 
other  things,  my  friend.  If  you  would  be 
served  to  the  best,  get  at  the  best  in  those  who 


Marcel    Levignet  293 

serve  you.  Name  of  the  devil!  The  reason  so 
large  a  part  of  the  world  feels  the  sting  of  thorns 
is  that  the  majority  of  us  insist  on  feeding  our 
vanity  at  the  expense  of  the  other  fellow's  pride. 
No  man  is  without  his  share  of  amour  propre. 
Respect  it,  and  you  will  find  that  there  are  different 
values  in  the  work  of  even  a  scavenger.  Have  a 
look  at  my  dust-bin.  It  is  as  wholesome  as  one  of 
old  Suzel's  casseroles.  Ah!  old  Suzel.  I  bred 
too  great  a  self-respect  in  her.  I  fell  below  her 
level  of  reciprocity.  But  I  don't  like  your  silence. 
It  is  an  admitted  fact  that  a  conversation  requires 
at  least  a  yea  and  nay  antiphone,  whereas  you  are 
as  dumb  as  an  oyster.  Can  you  not  favour  me 
with  an  occasional  exclamation?  A  thousand 
thunders!  do  you  hint  that  I  am  garrulous?" 

"  I  am  thinking,  Levignet,  that  you  might  dis- 
cover a  way  to  apply  your  golden  rule  to  Madame 
Clifton." 

"Humph!  That  has  come  into  my  mind, 
also." 

"Well?" 

"  And  been  discarded.  Still,  I  shall  make  the 
effort.  Since  you  have  introduced  the  subject,  let 
us  discuss  it.  Make  an  end  of  your  melon,  and 
we'll  have  in  the  chops.  Then  I'll  send  Joseph 
out.  He  is  new  to  me,  and  may  have  the  keyhole 
habit.  When  he  has  been  with  me  a  year  or  so, 
I'll  know  his  moral  calibre." 


294  Marcel    Levignet 

He  rang  the  bell,  gave  his  orders  and,  the 
changes  made,  dismissed  Joseph  with  a  commis- 
sion to  the  tobacconist.  Left  to  ourselves, 
Levignet  began  talking  again,  but  with  more 
seriousness. 

"  I  told  you  I  did  not  wish  to  involve  you  in  my 
affairs  by  acquainting  you  with  my  intentions.  But 
I  conclude  that  your  conscience  will  be  no  more  dis- 
turbed by  details  than  it  already  is  by  conjectures. 
If  I  had  said  nothing  to  you,  in  the  event  of  a  cer- 
tain casualty  you  would  have  declared  to  yourself, 
1  Levignet  is  the  man.'  Very  well ;  it  would  be  as 
hard  for  you  merely  to  suspect  as  it  will  be  if  you 
know.  You  may,  however,  rest  easy  on  one  point 
— you  will  have  nothing  to  conceal.  I  shall  not 
be  a  skulking  assassin.  Marcel  Levignet  has 
never  yet  had  anything  to  hide  from  man  or  God. 
We  do  not  teach  old  dogs  new  tricks.  To  the 
point.  At  nine  o'clock  this  morning  I  sent  a  note 
by  hand  to  Madame  Clifton,  telling  her  that  I  had 
a  fancy  to  buy  her  carriage  and  pair,  which  I  was 
prepared  to  do  without  regard  to  price.  I  begged 
her  to  name  a  time  in  the  twenty-four  hours  that 
I  might  confer  with  her  in  the  matter.  She  replied 
by  my  messenger.  Here  is  the  answer,  written  on 
the  back  of  one  of  her  visiting  cards : 

' '  Madame  Clifton  is  not  sure  that  she  cares  to  sell, 
but  will  hear  M.  Levignet's  offer  at  ten  o'clock  to-night, 
if  he  will  call.'  " 


Marcel    Levignet  295 

"  I  returned  word  that  I  should  be  at  her  door 
precisely  on  the  hour." 

"  I  see.     You  hope  to  buy  her  off." 

"  Not  merely  that.  It  would  be  easy  enough 
to  buy  her  off,  as  you  put  it.  I  must  have  a 
guaranty  that  she  will  stay  bought.  One  does  not 
put  trust  in  cattle  of  her  sort.  I  must  be  sure  of 
her  silence  when  the  bargain  is  concluded. 

"  I  have  written  out  a  brief  statement  of  the 
circumstances  attending  the  seduction  of  M'lle 
Beaudais,  inculpating  Madame  Clifton,  and  the 
facts  leading  up  to  and  including  the  death  of 
Judge  Chartier  of  which  Madame  Clifton  has 
cognisance.  If  she  will  sign  that  paper,  she  can 
name  her  own  price  for  her  signature,  attested  by 
Joseph." 

"Joseph?" 

"  Oh !  I  neglected  to  tell  you  that  Joseph  is  a 
notary." 

"If  she  will  not  sign?" 

u  It  is  all  one.  She  will  have  had  the  chance. 
In  any  case,  I  will  feel  sure  of  her  silence  when  I 
leave  her." 

"  You  don't  imagine,  do  you,  Levignet,  that  she 
will  receive  you  alone?  " 

"  Probably  not.     It  doesn't  matter." 

"  But  Clifton  isn't  the  only  one  you  have  to 
silence.  There  is  the  Marquis." 

"  Oh,  no !    My  word  for  it,  the  Marquis  knows 


296  Marcel   Levignet 

nothing  of  the  story.     Clifton  is  much  too  shrewd 
to  have  let  him  into  the  secret.     Besides,  I  have 
sounded  him." 
"When?" 

"  This  morning.     I  had  twenty  minutes  talk 
with  him.     He  would  almost  be  willing  to  give  me 
back  the  hundred  thousand  to  know  why  I  do  not 
prosecute  him.     I  was  sure  it  was  Clifton's  doings. 
She  simply  used  the  monkey.  He  knows  nothing." 
"  May  I  offer  you  my  advice?  " 
"  Why  not  ?     I  am  not  obliged  to  take  it." 
"  I  am  of  de  Noel's  opinion.     You  have  a  dis- 
torted view  of  the  Clifton.     She  will  blackmail  you 
if  she  can  frighten  you  with  threats;  but  if  you  will 

defy  her,  challenge  her  to  do  her  worst " 

"  You  are  a  novice,  my  friend,"  Levignet  inter- 
rupted. "  Your  faith  in  'Toinette's  romance 
closes  your  eyes  to  the  important  fact  that  she 
has  not  a  single  witness  to  corroborate  any  part  of 
her  statement.  And  if  you  will  examine  the  case 
as  dispassionately  as  judge  or  jury  would,  you  will 
be  forced  to  confess  that  there  is  a  good  deal  of 
the  incredible  in  a  story  that  is  not  consistent  with 
the  general  opinion  as  to  how  clandestine  love- 
affairs  work  out  in  Paris.  On  the  other  hand, 
see  how  things  are  arrayed  against  her.  To  the 
public  eye,  Madame  Clifton  is  a  woman  of 
exemplary  character.  She  abounds  in  good  works. 
She  prays  without  ceasing — at  least,  she  is  a  church 


Marcel   Levignet  297 

habitue e.  She  figures  in  every  charitable  move- 
ment— you  will  find  her  installed  at  the  Bazaar. 
She  is  fortified  in  grace.  Now  suppose  she  should 
have  a  sudden  scruple  of  conscience,  and  feel  im- 
pelled to  unburden  her  mind  of  a  troublesome 
secret.  She  could  represent  herself  as  a  benevolent 
body  who,  through  an  excess  of  compassion,  had 
been  tempted  to  shield  a  young  girl  from  the  con- 
sequences of  an  odious  crime.  Any  fiction  she 
might  falter  into  the  ears  of  Justice  would  be, 
prima  facie,  acceptable  to  our  wigged  donkeys. 
Who  could  disprove  her  snivelling  hypocrisies? 
She  is  clever  enough  to  invent  a  circumstantial  case 
that  would  come  near  enough  to  the  truth  to  be 
incontrovertible  by  anything  'Toinette  could  say 
in  her  own  defence.  You  and  de  Noel  attribute 
too  much  penetration  to  our  judiciary.  You 
imagine  that  official  decoration  increases  human 
sagacity  and  sharpens  the  perception.  It  is  quite 
the  other  way.  Badges  of  office  have  the  effect 
of  inflating  egotism  to  such  a  degree  that  judgment 
is  corrupted.  The  assumption  is  that  the  accused 
is  guilty,  and  under  our  remarkable  system  of 
jurisprudence  proof  of  innocence  is  substituted  for 
proof  of  guilt.  What  proof  of  her  innocence  can 
'Toinette  offer  to  support  her  declaration?  She 
could  tell  her  story  in  court  as  she  has  told  it  to 
me;  but  under  our  methods  of  interrogatory,  her 
defence  could  be  twisted  into  a  self-condemnation. 


298  Marcel    Levignet 

Ah !  I  see  you  are  already  convinced  of  the  sound- 
ness of  my  reasoning,  and  I  need  not  pursue  the 
argument  to  its  limit.  In  brief,  then,  Madame 
Clifton  must  be  silenced.  If  she  will  not  sign  a 
paper  incriminating  herself " 

"  I  do  not  believe  she  will  do  that." 

"  Then  the  alternative." 

"  I  don't  believe  she  will  take  the  initiative  you 
fear." 

"  She  will,  unless  the  de  Noels  will  submit  to 
her  dictation." 

"  Well,  even  that  were  better  than  that  you 
should " 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?  The  idea  is  re- 
volting. Look  you.  In  the  rue  Bonaparte  there 
is  an  atelier  where  a  remarkably  skilful  craftsman 
fashions  images  of  saints  for  the  Church — Josephs 
and  Virgins  and  Genevieves,  and  the  rest  of  them 
— mere  shapes  of  wood  and  plaster — insensate 
things;  emotionless,  passionless — objects  of  sale 
and  barter.  But  buy  one  of  those  senseless  effigies, 
my  friend,  and  set  it  up  at  the  entrance  to  a  house 
of  tolerance,  and  the  mob  of  Paris  will  rend  you 
in  pieces  and  raze  your  house  to  the  foundation 
bricks.  That  for  the  profanation  of  an  ideal ! 
Good  God !  "  He  pushed  back  from  the  table  and 
rose,  gripping  the  chair  strenuously,  his  face 
passionate,  his  voice  menacent.  "  If  it  be  a 
sacrilege,  an  unpardonable  outrage  to  make  that 


Marcel    Levignet  299 

use  of  an  image,  even  though  it  may  have  been 
carved  by  a  Brittany  peasant,  shall  it  be  less  an 
affront  to  Heaven  and  honesty  to  see  a  pure  woman 
put  to  a  like  shameful  service!  We  will  say  no 
more  about  it.  My  resolution  is  taken.  How  will 
you  have  your  coffee?  Natural  or  with  milk?  " 

"  With  milk." 

The  coffee  was  making  over  a  spirit-lamp,  and, 
as  he  went  to  draw  me  a  cup,  the  street  bell  rang. 

"  Joseph.  I  can  put  it  to  his  credit  that  he  is 
expeditious.  Excuse  me  while  I  let  him  in." 

It  was  not  Joseph,  however,  but  a  petit-bleu, 
which,  on  his  return,  Levignet  tossed  to  me  in 
silence  as  he  passed  to  the  coffee  urn. 

There  was  only  the  line: 

"  Madame  Clifton  will  not  sell.  M.  Levignet  need 
not  call." 

"Laconic,  isn't  it?"  asked  Levignet. 

"  What  do  you  understand  from  it?  " 

"  The  mouse  has  smelt  the  cat." 

"What  will  you  do  now?  " 

"  I  mean  to  have  a  cup  of  coffee — two,  if  it  tastes 
as  good  as  it  smells.  I  paraphrase  Sancho  Panza 
to  say,  '  God  bless  the  man  who  first  invented 
coffee.'  I  believe  the  medical  fraternity  are  not 
agreed  as  to  its  beneficence;  but  I  shall  be  careful 
to  avoid  anything  the  medical  gentlemen  agree  to 
commend.  Um?  How  is  it?" 


300  Marcel    Levignet 

"  Quite  worthy  of — Suzel." 

"  It  is  her  method.  I  learned  a  deal  from  the 
dear  old  pig-headed,  foolish  virgin.  Did  I  tell 
you  that  I  have  located  her?  " 

"No.     Have  you?" 

"  Yes.  She  took  herself  and  her  savings  to  an 
attic  back  of  the  Madeleine.  Suzel  was  a  thrifty 
soul  and  has  more  than  enough  for  her  simple 
needs.  But  she  misses  me  nearly  as  much  as 
I  miss  her.  The  stupid  creature  has  drawn  into  a 
shell.  I've  had  a  talk  with  the  concierge. 
Fidelity  of  affection  is  the  rarest  jewel  in  the 
human  coffer,  friend  Summerville,  and  I  must  find 
a  way  to  recover  old  Suzel.  She  has  hands  like 
claws,  but  I  would  rather  have  them  to  close  down 
my  eyelids  when  I  can  no  longer  close  them  for 
myself,  than  the  softest  fingers  I  have  ever  touched 

— unless  it  might  be  those  of Ah  1  That  is 

Joseph  this  time,  certainly." 

The  bell  brought  him  out  of  the  pleasant 
melancholy  into  which  he  was  drifting,  and  he 
went  with  exceptional  alacrity  to  let  in  Joseph,  who 
brought  a  bundle  of  cigars. 

"  We'll  keep  these  for  another  time,"  said 
Levignet,  re-entering  the  room.  '"  I  remember  to 
have  some  better  ones  in  my  workshop.  Let  us 
go  try  them.  Refill  the  cups,  Joseph,  and  fetch 
them  in  to  us." 

Levignet  led  the  way  to  his  "  workshop,"  and 


Marcel    Levignet  301 

when  he  had  set  a  box  of  Havanas  before  me  he 
asked  permission  to  use  the  telephone,  and  called 
up  the  Prefect  of  Police. 

"M.  le  Prefet?"  he  demanded,  when  the 
response  came.  "  Ah !  yes.  It  is  Levignet. 
Exactly.  I  want  a  favour  at  your  hands.  Thank 
you.  You  are  very  obliging.  Will  you  send  two 
of  your  men  to  my  house  to-night  at  9  o'clock 
sharp,  to  act  under  my  orders?  No.  Merely  a 
bit  of  diplomacy.  A  little  nonsense  of  my  own. 
In  uniform,  yes.  Thank  you.  We'll  touch 
glasses  at  the  Cafe  Cardinal,  if  you'll  dine  with  me 
to-morrow.  What's  that?  You  biberon!  You 
wish  to  ruin  me.  But  I  submit.  Only  I  shall  ask 
a  further  favour.  Send  me  a  blank  warrant,  a 
prise  de  corps,  signed  by  yourself.  Oh,  never 
mind  the  legality.  It  will  serve  my  purpose.  Fi 
done!  I  am  too  old  for  pranks  of  that  sort.  It 
is  a  jest  of  another  pattern.  Eh?  Word  of 
honour.  You  will  never  hear  of  it  except  from 
me.  Yes!  Yes.  I  assure  you.  That  is  ex- 
tremely pretty  of  you.  Thanks  infinitely.  You 
shall  rummage  the  cellar  of  the  Cardinal  to  your 
heart's  content.  Ah!  farceur!  Heart  and 
stomach  are  the  same  with  you,  you  say?  Chut! 
Chut!  I  shall  not  listen  to  you."  He  laughed, 
and  broke  the  communication. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  policemen  and 
warrants  ?  "  I  asked  as  he  turned  to  take  up  the 


302  Marcel    Levignet 

cup  of  coffee  which  Joseph  had  brought  in  while 
he  was  talking. 

"  I  am  going  to  keep  my  ten  o'clock  appoint- 
ment with  Madame  Clifton." 

"You  mean  to  give  her  in  charge?" 

"Oh,  dear  no,  innocent  young  man!  I  shall 
only  play  what  you  Americans  call  the  bluff.  It 
will  insure  me  an  interview  with  Madame,  and  that 
is  all  I  ask." 

"  But  if  she  is  not  at  home?  " 

"  I  shall  await  her  return.  Come,  come,  mon 
enfant,  put  off  that  unwholesome  countenance. 
You  give  me  an  uncomfortable  desire  to  turn  you 
into  the  street.  You  are  as  unsociable  as  a  wet 
blanket.  Let  us  remember  that  the  day  is  a  God- 
send of  beauty,  and  make  something  of  it.  I  have 
the  afternoon  at  my  disposal,  and  I  wish  to  be  glad 
in  it.  If  you  can  bring  your  good-humour  into  the 
foreground,  I'll  keep  company  with  you;  other- 
wise, I  must  take  leave  of  you.  Which  will  it  be 
— an  arm-in-arm  stroll  in  the  sunshine  or  au 
revoir?  " 

"  I  mean  to  keep  with  you." 

"Truly?  Then  put  on  a  smile  and  your  hat. 
We'll  go  to  your  hotel  if  you  wish  to  change  your 
linen,  for  we  may  care  to  drop  into  the  Bazaar  to 
buy  a  buttonhole  flower — if  our  purses  are  long 
enough.  By  the  way,  do  you  ever  lounge  in  the 
Pare  Monceau  ?  " 


Marcel   Levignet  303 

"  I  have  visited  it." 

"  It  isn't  what  it  was  in  the  old  days,  but  it  is 
still  the  most  picturesquely  romantic  jewel  in  the 
ornamental  charm  of  Paris.  This  is  the  children's 
hour.  I  love  to  sit  in  a  shady  nook  of  la  Nau- 
machie  and  watch  them,  listen  to  them,  join  some- 
times in  their  frolics.  I  have  gone  there  many  a 
time  to  sweeten  myself  from  the  reek  of  vulgarity. 
Let  us  stroll  that  way.  I  want  the  tonic  of  child- 
ish laughter." 


XXXV 

IN  the  company  of  an  enthusiast  of  beauty  the 
Pare  Monceau  is  indeed  the  spring  of 
imagination.  The  exquisite  display  of 
flowers  and  rare  plants,  the  expanse  of  water  wind- 
rippling  to  the  base  of  the  semicircle  of  ivy- 
mantled,  bough-embowered  Corinthian  columns 
named  la  Naumachie,  the  tangle  of  noble  trees  and 
the  utter  freedom  from  reminders  of  the  mean  and 
sordid,  might  set  the  fibres  of  the  dullest  nature 
tingling  to  the  measure  of  poetry.  Levignet 
breathed  deep  as  we  entered  through  the  gilded 
gates,  and  as  we  passed  the  groups  of  tiny  aristo- 
crats— for  they  were  the  butterfly  children  of  the 
rich  who  then  sported  in  the  loveliness  of  this  for- 
tunate garden — his  white  hair  and  beard  were 
suddenly  transformed  from  the  badge  of  age 
into  the  fantastic  masque  of  a  truant  juvenile. 
Levignet  was  a  boy  at  heart,  and  he  went  back 
with  a  rush  to  the  spirit  of  hoop  and  top  at  the 
slightest  hint  of  circumstance.  How  often  I  had 
seen  the  transition,  and  loved  him  for  it!  How 
many  memories  of  this  up-leap  of  young  sincerity 
\  are  precious  to  me  now !  The  man  who  keeps 
ready  in  his  heart  the  treasure-trove  of  his  clean 

3°4 


Marcel    Levignet  305 

boyhood  has  ransom  when  the  great  Audit  is 
made  up. 

The  iron  chairs  in  the  shadow  of  a  broken 
column,  half  hidden  in  ivy,  invited  us  to  sit  down 
within  speaking  distance  of  a  trio  of  dainty  mid- 
gets labouring  at  heaps  of  gravel  with  a  shovel  the 
size  of  a  spoon.  Levignet  gave  them  directions, 
and  even  aided  them  with  his  stick,  until  by  de- 
grees their  busy  toil  edged  them  away  from  us  to 
raise  heaps  further  down  the  path,  which  they 
builded,  laughing. 

"  Ah !  Summerville,  someone  has  said  there  is 
nothing  half  so  holy  in  life  as  the  innocent  laugh 
of  a  child.  And  it  is  true.  Something  renovat- 
ing goes  through  one  to  hear  it.  They  are  the 
4  young-eyed  Cherubins  '  of  your  Shakespeare,  and 
I  have  an  idea  that  their  delicate,  pure  ears  catch 
sometimes  the  harmony  of  the  singing  orbs  which 
the  '  muddy  vesture  of  decay '  shuts  from  the  souls 
of  us  worldings.  You  remember  the  lines  I  mean  ? 

"  'There's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  behold'st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  Cherubins; 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls: 
But,  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it." 

Ah !  chere  petite!  " 

One  of  the  children  running  along  the  path 
stumbled  and  fell,  driving  her  plump  hands 


306  Marcel    Levignet 

cruelly  against  the  fine  gravel;  but  before  she  had 
quite  made  up  her  mind  to  cry,  Levignet  was  lift- 
ing her  to  her  feet,  cheering  her  with  endearments, 
and  making  such  an  indignant  clamour  against  the 
naughty  path  for  having  thrown  her,  punishing  the 
ground  with  his  stick,  that  the  little  one  forgot 
the  occasion  for  tears  and,  laughing  at  the  funny 
man,  went  back  to  her  play  with  increased  mirth- 
fulness. 

"  You  are  so  fond  of  children,"  I  said,  when 
Levignet  came  back  to  his  chair,  "  I  wonder  you 
never  married,  to  have  a  family  of  your  own." 

It  was  a  remark  in  jest,  but  Levignet,  beating  the 
toe  of  his  boot  with  his  stick,  answered  slowly  and 
in  regretful  tone: 

"  I  have  dream  children  of  my  own — always 
young,  always  clambering  on  my  knees  to  fling 
their  arms  about  my  neck  and  snuggle  their  faces 
in  my  beard.  It  has  been  so  for  thirty  years,  ever 
since  the  dream  began,  ever  since  I  knew  it  was 
only  to  be  a  dream.  I  have  never  told  you. 
There  is  always  some  corner  of  the  heart  that  we 
use  as  a  shrine,  where  no  one  lights  a  candle  but 
ourselves,  and  where  we  go  in  solitude  to  kneel 
before  the  altar  of  memory." 

He  leaned  over,  resting  his  forehead  on  his 
hands  clasped  on  the  silver  top  of  his  heavy  stick. 
After  a  silence,  which  I  respected,  he  went  on  talk- 
ing, without  raising  his  head,  so  that  I  scarcely 


Marcel    Levignet  307 

knew  whether  he  was  confiding  his  thoughts  to  me 
or  speaking  unconscious  of  my  presence. 

"  I  was  twenty-five.  Elise  was  coming  to  her 
eighteenth  birthday,  the  day  appointed  for  our 
marriage.  The  house  in  which  I  now  live  was 
chosen  by  her;  together  we  furnished  it,  though 
for  the  most  part  it  was  her  fancy  that  was  fol- 
lowed. The  home  is  the  woman's  world.  It  / 
pleased  me  to  have  her  say  how  things  should  be. 
But  it  was  her  mother  who  pulled  me  by  the  ear 
and  whispered  in  her  friendly  way,  '*  This  room 
shall  be  the  children's  room,  Marcel,  my  son;  and 
you  must  let  me  put  it  ready  for  my  grand-chil- 
dren.' We  were  very  merry  when  we  came  to 
make  up  the  list  of  guests;  but  there  was  a  name 
we  did  not  write  down,  and  He,  the  Unbidden, 
was  the  only  guest  who  came.  It  was  the  Carni- 
val week,  too.  She  was  so  in  love  with  the  frank 
gaieties  of  life,  she  was  so  much  a  part  of  the 
sweet  sunshine,  that  it  seemed  strange,  strange  that 
the  echoes  of  mirth  from  the  boulevards  did  not 
wake  her  as  we  followed  her  through  the  still 
and  empty  streets  winding  away  from  the  mad 
happiness  toward  the  City  of  Silence.  It  was  my 
first  ride  to  Pere  Lachaise.  I  have  been  so  many 
times  since.  Soon  I  shall  go  again.  It  is  well 
to  have  waited  and  been  waited  for  for  thirty 
years.  It  is  good  to  have  dreamed  and  kept  faith 
with  your  dreams.  And  if  to  the  dream  of  youth 


so8  Marcel    Levignet 

has  been  added  an  illusion  of  age — well,  to  have 
been  faithful  it  is  necessary  that  one  should  have 
been  human  too." 

His  voice  had  sunk  to  a  barely  distinguishable 
murmur,  and  I  had  leaned  nearer  to  hear  him, 
when  he  raised  his  head  with  a  sudden  nervous 
jerk,  struck  his  stick  against  the  ground  and  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Mon  Dieu!  Summerville,  we  are  falling 
asleep !  Let  us  stir  our  stumps.  The  children 
have  found  us  too  dull  for  playfellows,  and  have 
deserted  us.  And  I  have  come  without  any  crumbs 
in  my  pockets  for  the  sparrows.  There  is  nothing 
for  it  but  to  tramp.  I'll  walk  with  you  to  the 
£toile,  if  you  say  so,  provided  my  knee  does  not 
suddenly  turn  refractory.  I've  a  moment's  busi- 
ness in  the  Avenue  Kleber.  Then  we'll  take  a  cab 
to  your  hotel,  and  you  shall  give  me  a  mouthful 
of  that  American  whiskey  to  economise  while  you 
touch  up  your  toilet.  Happily  a  bourgeois  of  my 
pattern  does  not  have  to  prink." 

He  abandoned  himself  to  a  fantastic  humour  as 
we  idled  toward  the  Arc,  and  though  I  listened  to 
him  and  laughed  at  him,  my  mind  was  tormented 
by  its  vain  efforts  to  devise  a  scheme  to  keep  him 
from  going  to  the  meeting  with  Madame  Clifton 
that  night.  My  abstraction  acted  as  a  spur  to 
his  mischievous  spirit,  or  else  he  was  trying  to 
obliterate  from  his  own  mind  the  melancholy  of 


Marcel    Levignet  309 

his  semi-reverie  in  the  park,  for  he  joked  with 
street  urchins,  bandied  words  with  pedlars,  took 
in  hand  a  carter's  balking  horse,  and  altogether 
was  as  little  like  the  sober  M.  Levignet  as  any 
gamin.  In  the  Avenue  Hoche  we  came  upon  a 
street  singer,  a  blind,  dark-headed  Apollo,  still 
young,  playing  his  own  accompaniment  on  a  repu- 
table violin,  a  woman  old  as  the  sibyl  holding  by 
the  skirt  of  his  coat  and  offering  leaflets  of  his 
songs  for  sale.  I  had  heard  this  chanson 
d'Amour  piped  by  a  metallic  tenor  in  one  of  the 
free  music  halls,  but  the  rich  cadence  of  the  man's 
mellow  baritone  gave  soul  and  character  to  air  and 
words,  a  touching  pathos  to  the  double  refrain, 
"  Pourquoi  partir,  Ninon;  pourquoi  partir, — 
Ninon!" 

Levignet  stopped  in  front  of  the  singer,  who 
had  a  scattered  audience  of  ten  or  a  dozen  persons 
none  too  willing  to  part  with  their  sous,  enjoying 
but  holding  aloof. 

"  Excellent,  my  friend,"  said  Levignet,  in 
French,  when  the  song  was  done.  "  You  have 
given  me  true  pleasure.  You  have  a  voice  for 
better  things.  Is  it  not  so,  my  friends?  "  he  asked, 
turning  to  the  people  near  him.  "  One  pays  for 
art  in  Paris;  is  it  not  so?  I  have  paid  twenty 
francs  for  worse  at  the  Opera.  Shall  we  recom- 
pense our  artist?  Come;  I  will  set  the  example." 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  dropped  into  it  a  five- 


310  Marcel    Levignet 

franc  piece,  and  then,  with  an  inviting  smile,  held 
it  to  the  right  and  left  about  him,  moving  here  and 
there,  crossing  the  street  to  a  lady  who  laughingly 
held  up  a  franc  to  tempt  him,  the  blind  singer  and 
his  old  mother  clinging  together  in  their  astonish- 
ment, with  nothing  more  eloquent  to  say  than  a 
varied  repetition  of  "  Monsieur." 

"  There,  mother,"  said  Levignet,  emptying  his 
hat  into  the  woman's  apron ;  "  you  see  the  people 
love  music.  For  me,  I  love  it  best  in  the  open." 

"  The  good  God  is  in  your  heart,  monsieur," 
quavered  the  old  woman,  in  thin  child's  voice. 

"  In  the  hearts  of  all  of  us,  mother,  did  we  but 
know  it." 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  singer,  "  is  it  too  much 
to  ask  that  I  may  shake  hands  with  you  ?  " 

"  Are  we  not  brothers?  "  asked  Levignet,  clasp- 
ing the  outstretched  hand. 

We  went  on  up  the  Avenue,  Levignet  less  prank- 
ish than  he  had  been,  and  the  voice  of  the  singer 
came  after  us  in  a  more  ambitious  song;  but  the 
words  and  the  tune  were  still  to  my  inner  hearing 
the  haunting  refrain  of  the  other  melody,  grown 
mysteriously  and  sombrely  prophetic. 

" Pourquoi  partir?  pourquoi  partir?." 


XXXVI 

IF  you   will  sit  on   that  bencK  there,"   said 
Levignet,  when  we  had  crossed  the  Place  de 
1'fitoile,  "  you  will  find  it  more  amusing  than 
cooling  your  heels  in  an  anteroom  while  I  am 
closeted  with  Maitre  Bordone.     I'll  not  keep  you 
waiting  long  enough  to  bore  you.     Take  a  cigar 
for  company." 

He  left  me  seated  and  entered  the  Avenue 
Kleber.  This  Maitre  Bordone  was  the  advocate 
who  had  charge  of  Levignet's  affairs ;  and,  though 
I  knew  that  the  newspaper,  financial  investments 
and  enterprises  of  less  importance  gave  Levignet 
excuse  enough  for  consulting  his  lawyer,  the  call 
at  the  private  residence,  in  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon, suggested  to  me  that  the  visit  was  by  appoint- 
ment for  business  of  a  more  intimate  character 
than  usual.  But  as  he  chose  to  leave  me  ignorant 
of  his  object,  I  rebuked  my  curiosity  in  the  begin- 
ning of  its  speculation,  and  fell  to  reviewing  my 
relations  with  Levignet  to  the  time  when  our  ac- 
quaintance began  so  accidentally.  It  was  six  or 
eight  years  before.  I  had  been  strolling  along  the 
grand  boulevards,  and  was  inattentively  crossing 
to  the  Porte  Saint  Martin,  when  suddenly  I  felt 
myself  seized  by  the  collar  and  jerked  violently 


312  Marcel   Levignet 

back,  just  as  a  motor — wildly  driven,  as  in  the  early 
days  of  unrestricted  motoring  was  the  practice  with 
arrogant  chauffeurs — rushed  past.  Though  I  had 
been  saved  from  injury,  possibly  from  extinction, 
I  was  inclined  to  be  angry  with  the  person  who  had 
handled  me  so  unceremoniously,  and  turned  rather 
sharply  on  my  rescuer.  One  resents  being  made 
ridiculous  by  a  liberty,  even  at  the  profit  of  life, 
and  the  consciousness  that  I  had  blundered  like  a 
yokel  made  me  the  more  eager  to  justify  my  in- 
telligence. 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  mean,  monsieur,"  I 
demanded  in  loud  voice,  "  by  assaulting  me  in  this 
fashion  I  " 

"  You  were  about  to  be  run  over,  monsieur," 
said  Levignet,  for  Levignet  it  was,  with  a  smile 
of  irritating  good-humour. 

"  That  was  my  affair,  monsieur,"  I  retorted,  re- 
adjusting my  coat  and  receiving  my  hat  picked  up 
by  a  woman. 

"  Pardon  me,  monsieur,  but  I  did  not  wish  to 
see  a  mess  in  our  beautiful  street."  He  lifted  his 
hat  and  was  passing  on,  the  people  about  laughing 
at  his  sally,  when  good  sense  got  the  better  of  my 
caddishness.  I  laughed  foolishly,  gave  the  grin- 
ning woman  a  pourboire  and  overtook  my  non- 
chalant saviour. 

"  Monsieur,  be  good  enough  to  attribute  my  bad 
manners  to  surprise  not  altogether  free  from  fear. 


Marcel    Levignet  3 1 3 

The  shock,  you  understand — I  am  most  grateful 
to  you." 

He  looked  at  me,  his  eyes  twinkling,  his  mous- 
taches spreading  with  the  smile  under  them. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  see,  monsieur,  that  I  a  little  dis- 
arranged your  necktie.  Will  you  permit  me?  " 

He  set  the  tie  right  with  a  touch,  and  we  went 
down  the  boulevard  together,  presently  arm-in- 
arm to  prevent  our  separation  by  the  throng.  So 
began  an  acquaintance  that  rapidly  ripened  into 
intimacy,  for,  as  Levignet  put  it,  u  what  seemed  a 
chance  encounter  was  really  a  directed  reunion  of 
spirits  that  had  been  congenial  in  a  forgotten  past." 
He  laughed  as  he  said  it,  but,  as  I  have  more  than 
once  intimated,  Levignet  was  a  believer  in  in- 
scrutable things.  For  me  he  wore  his  heart  on 
his  sleeve;  to  the  world  at  large  he  was  as  much 
an  enigma  as  any  of  his  fellow  worldings.  To  be 
downright  open  and  expansive  now  and  then, 
throwing  off  reserve  and  letting  the  native  man 
break  through  the  armour  of  convention  that 
mutual  distrust  and  jealousy  have  welded  on  us, 
is  a  privilege  which  all  men  covet,  but  which  few 
have  the  courage  or  the  opportunity  to  enjoy. 
Levignet  gratified  his  need  of  occasional  self-dis- 
covery in  the  freedom  of  his  talks  with  me.  I 
came  to  such  a  knowledge  of  him  through  these 
unguarded  avenues  of  sentiment  that  I  was  taught 
to  recognise  in  my  own  heart  an  unsuspected  capa- 


314  Marcel    Levignet 

city  of  tenderness  for  the  mixed  caravan  journeying 
across  the  oasis-dotted  desert  of  Time  toward  the 
hostel  of  Eternity.  The  best  in  one's  nature 
always  responds  to  the  sincerity  of  another — and 
Levignet  might  have  declared  with  de  Maistre — 
"  I  love  everyone  that  lives,  and  even  inanimate 
things  have  part  in  my  affections.  I  love  the 
trees  that  bestow  their  shade  on  me,  and  the  birds 
that  gossip  in  the  leafage;  I  love  the  nocturnal  cry 
of  the  owl  and  the  roar  of  rushing  waters;  I  love 
everything — I  love  the  moon.  You  laugh.  It  is 
easy  to  turn  into  ridicule  the  sentiments  that  you 
have  never  experienced;  but  the  heart  that  re- 
sembles mine  will  understand  me." 

It  was  better  than  the  love  of  woman  to  have 
known  and  understood  Marcel  Levignet. 

"  Hello  I  day-dreaming?  " 

Levignet  had  approached  without  my  notice, 
and  his  words  were  accompanied  by  a  thrust  of  his 
stick  against  my  side. 

"  M.  Bordone  was  ready  for  me,  so  I  have  not 
to  apologise  for  keeping  you  waiting;  but  you  are 
a  sleepy-head  by  nature." 

"  I  wasn't  asleep.     I  was  thinking.* 

"  It  is  a  vice  to  think  with  your  eyes  shut  when 
there  is  so  much  brightness  and  animation  about 
you.  Come;  pull  yourself  to  your  feet.  I've 
mapped  out  a  programme  for  the  afternoon.  It 


Marcel   Levignet  3 1 5 

is  now  but  a  little  after  three.  We'll  drive  to  your 
hotel,  that  you  may  make  yourself  irresistible,  and 
then  drop  into  the  Bazaar  for  half-an-hour,  if  our 
funds  hold  out  so  long.  Afterwards  we'll  take  a 
constitutional  in  the  Bois.  At  five  o'clock  a  bateau, 
have  an  early  dinner  at  an  excellent  little  restau- 
rant, with  a  charming  river  terrace,  kept  by  one  of 
my  father's  old  servants.  He  has  an  admirable 
faculty  for  doing  things  to  please  me.  At  seven 
we  return  to  Paris  in  an  open  carriage,  and  at 
eight-thirty  I'll  bid  you  good-night  and  set  you 
free  of  my  company.  How  does  the  arrangement 
suit  you?  " 

"  Capitally,  except  for  the  '  good-night.'  We 
must  amend  that  part  of  it." 

"  Positively,  no.  I  shall  have  pumped  you  dry 
by  that  time,  and  have  no  further  use  for  you.  An 
empty  man  is  like  an  empty  bottle — an  irritating 
strain  on  the  nervous  system.  Get  in." 

We  took  our  places  in  the  fiacre  he  had  stopped, 
and  drove  to  the  hotel.  On  the  way  Levignet 
gave  me  a  small  sealed  packet. 

44  This  is  something  Bordone  has  been  keeping 
for  me  these  many  years.  The  idea  occurred  to 
me  that  you  might  find  a  wrist  for  it  some  day.  I 
bought  it  years  ago  for  a  purpose.  I  should  like 
you  to  have  it.  Humph  1  Is  Marcel  a  name  you 
Americans  ever  give  to  your  children?  There  is 
such  a  devil  of  a  bother  choosing  names  sometimes. 


316  Marcel    Levignet 

I  had  a  cousin  who  was  called  Hibou  as  long  as 
he  lived,  for  the  reason  that  to  every  name  in  or 
out  of  the  family  proposed  for  his  christening,  my 
uncle  opposed  a  disdainful  *  chouette.'  As 
'  chouette '  also  means  a  kind  of  owl,  '  Owl '  my 
unlucky  cousin  became,  and  was  finally  laughed 
into  his  grave  with  it.  Poor  devil  of  a  Hibou ! 
A  man's  name,  let  me  tell  you,  has  an  undoubted 
influence  upon  the  formation  of  his  character." 

"  I  believe  you." 

"  You  have  no  prejudice  against  the  name 
Marcel?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  like  it." 

"  Ah !  well.  You  may  have  a  boy  some  time. 
Who  knows?" 

"  May  I  open  this  packet?  " 

"  Of  course." 

Breaking  the  seal,  I  uncovered  a  morocco  case, 
in  which  was  a  beautifully  jewelled  bracelet,  a 
single  stone  of  great  value  caught  in  an  exquisite 
lacework  of  golden  leaves. 

"  My  dear  Levignet — "  I  exclaimed  in  astonish- 
ment, holding  the  bracelet  to  catch  the  sunlight, 
"  why  do  you  give  me  this?  " 

Looking  up  at  the  equestrian  statue  of  Jeanne 
d'Arc  which  we  were  just  passing,  he  replied, 
lightly: 

"  It  was  bought  for  a  wedding  present.  Give 
it  to  Madame  Summerville  on  your  marriage 


Marcel    Levignet  317 

morning.  Ha !  it  has  been  too  long  hidden  away 
in  the  darkness.  There  is  a  sort  of  crime  in  keep- 
ing gems  secreted  from  the  light  from  which  they 
extract  such  wonderful  beauties.  The  vulgar 
world  holds  the  opinion  that  the  progress  of  civil- 
isation is  marked  by  commercial  stadia ;  as  a  matter 
of  fact  it  is  measured  by  the  jeweller's  microscope. 
Profusion  is  barbarism;  selection  is  art;  art  is  the 
touchstone  of  civilisation;  and  the  highest  of  all 
arts  is  the  proper  cutting  and  setting — mind,  I 
say  proper — of  nature's  perfected  minerals  and 
metals.  Your  stockbrokers,  and  fishmongers,  and 
politicians  will  not  admit  as  much;  nor  will  those 
queer  creatures  who  achieve  a  sort  of  celebrity  by 
their  knowledge  of  Greek  roots  or  their  acquaint- 
ance with  the  chemical  values  of  guanos;  but  the 
proof  of  my  statement  lies  in  the  fact  that  among 
the  arts  the  jeweller's  enjoys  the  pre-eminent  dis- 
tinction of  being  the  only  one  that  is  not  utilitarian. 
A  picture  is  a  substitute  for  wall  paper;  a  statue 
breaks  an  expanse,  defines  an  angle  or  corrects  a 
vacancy;  but  a  jewel,  properly  speaking,  is  as  use- 
less as  a  lily  or  a  rose  or  the  smile  on  a  baby's  lips 
— yet  these  things  are  more  precious  than  all  the 
ships  that  go  out  to  sea  and  all  the  heaped-up 
stones  that  make  a  city  of  palaces." 

"  You  forget  music  among  the  arts,  Levignet." 

"  Oh !    my    God !    Summerville,    are    you    a 

Boeotian!     Music  among  the  arts!     The  miracu- 


3i8  Marcel    Levignet 

lous  voice  of  Nature  and  the  soul,  that  is  every- 
where intelligible  and  potent,  an  art!  In  that 
sphere,  my  friend,  the  more  art  the  less  music,  the 
less  inspiration.  The  Great  Musician  has  a 
thousand  instruments — Norway  pines  and  Lom- 
bardy  poplars — Alpine  torrents  and  meadow 
rivulets — the  roar  of  winds  in  caverns  or  over  the 
hills  of  the  driven  sea — bird  song  and  midge  hum 
— a  thousand  thousand  instruments  that  make  more 
wonderful  music  than  all  your  fiddles  and  trumpets 
and  drums  and  tinkling  or  droning  keyed-machines 
can  counterfeit.  I  will  allow  you  to  call  music  a 
science — an  inexhaustible  science — but  I  quarrel 
with  the  man  who  insists  upon  calling  it  an  art. 
An  art  is  perfectible  by  the  hand  of  man;  God 
alone  can  perfect  music.  I  am  ready  for  that 
mouthful  of  whiskey  you  promised  me." 


XXXVII 

FOLLOWING  Levignet's  programme,  we 
started  a  little  before  four  o'clock  for  the 
rue  Jean  Coujon  and  the  Charity  Bazaar. 
Neither  of  us  had  a  great  liking  for  crowds,  even 
those  of  "  Tout  Paris,"  but  to  Levignet  Toin- 
ette's  playful  appeal  to  "  come  and  buy  "  was  a 
mandate,  and  obedience  to  it  was  not  only  a  duty 
but  a  pleasure.  He  was  in  his  best  mood  of 
effervescent  good-nature,  and  had  a  jest  or  an 
anecdote  for  every  historic  house  or  monument  we 
passed  in  our  circuitous  drive.  In  the  Place  des 
Victoires,  over  which  Louis  XIV,  robed  and 
crowned  as  a  demi-god,  seems  forever  on  the  point 
of  plunging  his  massive  stallion,  he  said  with  a 
chuckle : 

"  I  never  think  of  the  glories  of  our  Louis  when 
I  see  that  statue.  On  the  contrary,  I  strip  him  of 
the  sacred  robe  and  set  him  in  velvet  coat  and  knee- 
breeches  in  front  of  an  old  Swiss  gardener,  among 
the  flower  beds  of  the  Pare  Monceau  when  it  was 
a  royal  pleasure-ground.  Old  Schoene,  the  gar- 
dener, was  a  character.  He  loved  three  things 
jealously  in  the  order  of  their  importance — the 
king,  a  short-stemmed  black  pipe,  and  his  flowers. 

319 


320  Marcel    Levignet 

Schoene  smoked  as  he  breathed;  he  would  as 
readily  have  been  deprived  of  his  nose  as  of  his 
pipe,  and  he  made  no  more  of  blowing  smoke  into 
the  face  of  his  Majesty  than  into  the  petals  of  a 
rose.  But  on  this  morning  of  which  I  speak,  Louis 
was  accompanied  by  the  queen  and  one  of  the 
princesses ;  and  when  they  came  upon  Schoene,  who 
continued  to  puff  away  at  his  pipe  while  responding 
to  questions,  the  king,  who  loved  the  old  fellow, 
thought  a  reprimand  necessary.  '  Mark  you, 
Schoene,'  he  said  severely,  '  I  let  it  pass  that  you 
smoke  in  my  presence;  I  cannot,  however,  pardon 
the  affront  to  her  Majesty  and  her  Highness. 
Throw  away  that  pipe.'  Not  a  bit  of  it.  The 
old  fellow  straightened  himself  up  as  best  he 
could,  and,  still  puffing  between  his  words,  replied 
slowly,  '  If  his  Majesty  is  displeased  with  me  as  a 
gardener  he  may  send  me  away.  It  would  break 
my  heart,  but  I  should  die  with  my  pipe  between 
my  teeth.'  Louis  looked  at  him  a  moment, 
laughed,  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder  indulgently, 
and  said,  '  Eh !  well,  my  friend,  smoke  your 
pipe ! '  That  is  the  way  I  like  to  think  of  Louis. 
They  may  toss  all  his  grand  exploits  and  vain- 
glorious conquests  into  the  river  Lethe,  if  they  will 
leave  me  that  incident  in  proof  of  his  manhood.  Is 
it  not  extraordinary  that  artists  always  seize  on  the 
grandiose  and  ignore  the  human  when  they  set 
about  immortalising  the  memory  of  a  man  ?  Could 


Marcel    Levignet  32 1 

anything  be  more  ridiculous  and  incongruous  than 
that  romanesque,  ramping  effigy  of  Louis  we  have 
just  seen?  A  sun-dial  would  have  been  as  much 
to  the  purpose.  But  we  French  have  a  passion 
for  men  on  horseback.  A  mannikin  on  a  Nor- 
mandy mare  could  sweep  us  to  the  devil  in  our 
enthusiasm  if  he  had  impudence  enough  to  ride 
down  a  few  of  us  first.  Positively,  the  strangest 
thing  in  human  nature  is  the  way  mankind  pros- 
trates itself  before  the  impotent  idols  of  its  own 
creation.  The  secret  of  it  is  that  we  must  worship 
something,  and  since  we  cannot  content  ourselves 
with  an  invisible,  and,  therefore,  possibly  non- 
existent God,  we — what  was  the  word  I  heard  you 
use  the  other  day?  Ah!  I  remember — we  bam- 
boozle ourselves  by  putting  our  fellow-mortals  on 
pedestals  and  burning  incense  before  them. 
Demos  was,  is,  and  ever  will  be  a  drivelling  idiot. 
He  deserves  that  the  man-on-horseback  should 
have  his  animal  shod  with  spiked  brass.  Here 
we  are ;  and  not  the  first  to  arrive,  either." 

The  street  was  choked  with  carriages,  and  our 
approach  to  the  stretch  of  wooden  sheds  that 
cheaply  imitated  the  street  scenes  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  was  so  hindered  that  we  alighted 
and  made  our  way  to  the  doors  on  foot. 

It  was  the  second  day  of  the  benevolent  enter- 
prise so  successfully  promoted  by  the  ladies  of  the 
haut  ton,  and  the  bourgeoisie,  which  always  waits 


322  Marcel    Levignet 

to  see  which  way  the  wind  blows,  was  oppressively 
represented. 

"  This  is  rather  more  than  I  bargained  for," 
Levignet  complained  as  we  edged  our  way  along 
the  main  passage  between  the  stalls.  "  If  I  have 
an  eye  for  a  crowd,  there  are  five  thousand  people. 
How  is  one  to  get  a  look  at  beauty,  when  he  is 
busy  keeping  his  feet  off  the  trail  of  her  gown! 
Everyone  is  dressed  as  if  she  were  arrayed  for  the 
Grand  Prix,  which  is  abominable.  I,  who  was 
built  to  walk  with  a  stride,  must  mince  my  steps 
like  a  dancing  master.  It  is  tantalising.  But  you 
would  come." 

"  I  would  come,  Levignet!  " 

"  It  is  too  late  to  argue  the  matter.  We  must 
make  the  best  of  it.  Ah !  look  there  to  your  right. 
The  venerable  lady  surrounded  by  a  bevy  of  pretty 
women.  It  is  the  Duchess  d'Alengon,  type  of  our 
French  noblesse  in  the  great  days — epitome  of  our 
best  traditions — une  vraie  grande  dame.  Napoleon 
said  that  the  chief  need  of  France  was  mothers; 
yes,  of  that  pattern.  Had  the  court  ladies  of  the 
last  two  Louis  been  women  of  the  Duchess  d'Alen- 
gon's  stamp,  Napoleon  would  never  have  mounted 
the  throne  of  the  Bourbons,  for  there  would 
have  been  no  Revolution  to  clear  the  way  for 
him." 

"  Which  would  have  been  a  pity,  all  things 
considered." 


Marcel    Levignet  323 

"  That  is  as  one  may  think.  For  my  own  part, 
I  am  of  the  opinion  that  the  strength  and  integrity  J 
of  a  country  may  be  measured  by  the  purity  of  its 
women.  Ah !  here  is  your  opportunity  to  buy  me  j 
a  cigar-case  that  I  shall  never  use.  The  cheapest 
of  them  will  do.  I  believe  in  homoeopathic 
phlebotomy,  as  far  as  you  have  the  choice.  Thank 
you,  madame,  I  prefer  this  one.  My  friend  will 
pay  you.  Be  as  charitable  with  him  as  your  good- 
will for  your  sister  stall-keepers  will  allow,  for  we 
wish  to  distribute  our  patronage.  You  are  right; 
it  all  falls  into  one  bag  in  the  end — but  there  is 
more  pleasure  in  scattering  crumbs  to  the  sparrows 
than  in  throwing  them  a  whole  loaf  at  once.  Be- 
sides, madame,  I  am  an  amateur  of  smiles;  and, 
charming  as  yours  are,  I  would  sample  the  assort- 
ment,"— he  lifted  his  hat, — "  even  though  I  must 
return  at  last  to  you." 

"  Polichinelle !  "  said  the  lady  good-naturedly, 
and  turned  to  other  patrons. 

A  few  stalls  further,  we  were  impeded  by  a 
crowd  viewing  some  object  evidently  of  amusing 
interest.  Levignet  stood  on  tiptoe  to  peer  over 
the  heads,  and  said  as  we  pushed  on: 

"  It  is  the  booth  of  the  sprightly  Duchesse 
d'Uzes.  You  have  heard  of  her  in  connection  with 
the  Boulanger  tragi-comedy.  Not  a  bad  social 
engineer,  her  Grace ;  plenty  of  zest,  some  wit,  and 
rather  ready  with  her  pen,;  but  when  it  comes  to 


324  Marcel    Levignet 

the  political  perimetre,  the  feminine  sense  of 
proportion " 

I  did  not  heed  the  finish  of  his  sentence,  for  my 
attention  was  attracted  to  a  booth  we  were  passing 
by  a  laughing  voice  that  touched  a  chord  of  recent 
memories.  Looking  into  the  stall,  where  several 
ladies  were  talking  with  bargaining  friends,  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  brilliant  eyes  in  which  was  a 
scornful  pride  that  seemed  to  temper  the  sensuous 
beauty  of  lips  I  could  have  picked  out  of  ten 
thousand. 

I  pulled  Levignet  brusquely  by  the  arm,  and 
whispered  into  his  ear: 

"  Look!  the  woman  in  the  middle  there.  It  is 
my  lost  '  Helen  of  Troy.'  " 

He  looked  as  I  directed  him. 

"  Impossible  I  "  he  exclaimed.  "  You  are  dan- 
gerously mistaken." 

"  I  will  swear  to  her." 

"  First  you  will  jump  from  the  Eiffel  Tower. 

The  lady  is "  He  whispered  a  name  in  my 

ear.  "  You  see  it  is  impossible — or,  what  comes 
to  the  same  thing,  you  must  think  of  it  as  im- 
possible. Along  with  you.  I  have  located  'Toin- 
ette." 

He  dragged  me  away  with  him,  urging  his  way 
toward  the  stall  where  'Toinette  shone  pink-robed 
among  her  assistants.  It  was  some  time  before 
Levignet  could  get  a  word  with  her,  her  wares — 


Marcel  Levignet  325 

editions  de  luxe,  autograph  books,  signed  sketches 
by  well-known  artists,  etc. — possibly,  the  beauty  of 
herself  and  the  young  ladies  with  her — holding 
quite  her  share  of  the  money-spending  throng. 
But  it  mattered  little  to  Levignet.  He  was  con- 
tent to  stand  in  beaming  contemplation  of  her  face, 
scarcely  desisting  when  he  exchanged  vivacious 
remarks  with  friends  who  chanced  to  drift  by 
him. 

But  for  the  risk  of  being  separated  from 
Levignet,  and  so  losing  him  for  the  evening,  I 
should  have  seized  the  occasion  to  return  to 
'"  Helen  of  Troy,"  for  his  whispered  warning  had 
piqued  instead  of  extinguishing  my  zest  of  adven- 
ture. I  had  a  mind  to  play  my  impudence  against 
the  scorn  of  those  black  eyes,  flattering  myself  that 
I  had  the  wit  to  steer  clear  of  breakers.  I  was 
half  unconsciously  easing  away  from  Levignet, 
when  he  touched  my  shoulder  with  the  top  of  his 
stick. 

"La  voila,"  he  said. 

"Who?"  I  asked. 

"  Madame  Beelzebub." 

He  tipped  his  stick  slightly,  pointing  to  the  left. 
Three  stalls  away,  I  saw  Madame  Clifton,  a  picture 
ojf  sedate  benevolence,  having  the  air  of  the  pre- 
siding genius  of  all  the  Charities. 

"  Marvellous  woman !  "  he  muttered,  in  a  tone 
of  sincere  admiration.  "  Have  I  not  said  that 


326  Marcel    Levignet 

she  could  make  a  fool  of  Sarah  at  her  own  trade  ? 
What  a  pity  she  missed  the  door." 

A  swirl  of  the  crowd  brought  us  opposite  'Toin- 
ette,  and  she  obligingly  turned  from  gossip  with 
an  unproductive  group  to  greet  Levignet,  curving 
out  an  ungloved  hand  to  him. 

"  So  you  did  come  to  save  me  from  neglect,  bon 
ami!  And  M.  Summerville,  too.  How  good  of 
you  both." 

"You  are  wrong,  Baroness;  it  is  not  to  For- 
tunata  we  come  with  our  mites.  We  are  in  search 
of  the  stall  of  the  deserted  lady." 

"  Then  you  must  push  your  way  into  the  street, 
and  look  for  her  at  a  church  door,"  'Toinette 
laughed.  "  But  is  it  not  divine,  the  fervour  of 
our  Parisians  to  befriend  the  poor?  " 

"  Ah !  Baroness,  if  it  were  that !  " 

"  Miserable !  to  bring  your  scepticism  here. 
Take  him  away,  M.  Summerville,  before  he  cor- 
rupts my  patrons." 

"  Not  until  I  know  the  price  of  this  book  that 
excites  my  cupidity."  He  held  up  a  dainty  volume 
of  de  Musset. 

"To  another,  fifty  francs;  to  you  three  hun- 
dred— not  a  centime  less,  infidel." 

"  Ridiculously  cheap.  It  is  mine.  And  I  will 
add  another  hundred  if  you  will  scribble  a  presen- 
tation line  on  the  fly  leaf." 

"  A  presentation  line?  " 


Marcel    Levignet  327 

"  Yes — I  suddenly  remember  that  I  am  to  have 
a  birth  anniversary  to-night.  You  can't  refuse  to 
make  me  a  present  of  your  autograph." 

She  took  up  a  gold  pencil  suspended  from  her 
waist  and  wrote  a  line. 

'  You  might  have  had  it  as  a  gratuity,"  she 
said,  smilingly  handing  him  the  book,  '"  but  as  the 
servant  of  Charity,  I  dare  not  profane  an  offering 
by  declining  it." 

Levignet  glanced  at  the  writing — "  Happiness 
to  the  friend  I  most  esteem — 'Toinette  " — held  it 
before  my  eyes  and  exclaimed,  "  Have  I  not  the 
best  of  the  bargain,  friend  Summerville!  But  I 
cannot  rest  in  a  lady's  debt,  dear  Baroness.  I  im- 
provise a  fete  in  celebration  of  my  birthday  and 
bid  you  and  the  Baron  to  honour  it.  Will  you 
come  ?  " 

"When?" 

"  To-night  at  eleven." 

"Very  well,  where?" 

"  Hotel  Foyot.  I  sacrifice  fashion  to  gastron- 
omy. Besides,  it  is  an  anniversary  habit.  I  owe 
that  much  to  the  Rive  Gauche.  Ghosts  of  my 
youth  keep  carnival  there.  They  must  find  me 
faithful,  eh?" 

"Are  none  of  them  troublesome?  Ghosts  are 
such  egotists." 

"  Not  my  sort,  Baroness.  My  memory  is  dis- 
criminating. I  give  you  my  word  I  have  never 


328  Marcel    Levignet 

had  a  nightmare,  nor  an  accusing  regret.  Let 
your  mind  be  tranquil.  I  do  not  invite  you  to  a 
Macbeth  banquet,  but  to  a  revel  of  laughing 
phantoms — will-o'-the-wisps  of  Bohemia  I  " 

"  In  that  case,  count  on  me." 

"And  the  Baron?" 

"  Naturally." 

'Toinette  divided  a  smile  of  good-fellowship 
between  us  and  gave  her  attention  to  other  patrons, 
Levignet  and  I  falling  in  with  the  drift  of  the 
crowd,  my  spirits  exalted  by  the  arrangement  for  a 
supper  at  the  Foyot.  I  expressed  my  satisfaction. 

"Are  you  so  gourmond?"  asked  Levignet. 

"  It  is  not  that;  my  gratification  is  in  your  change 
of  programme." 

"  Change !  Extension.  I  have  but  added 
another  item  to  round  out  the  symphony." 

"  Even  so,  the  fact  that  you  plan  for  a  jolly 
evening  argues " 

" '  Carpe  diem'  mon  enfant.  Enjoy  the  day. 
To  the  devil  with  arguments.  One  plans  for 
pleasure  in  the  hope  that  the  Goddess  Chance 
may  take  care  of  the  plan.  If  the  sequences  be 
disordered — soitl  anticipation  counts  for  some- 
thing in  the  cycle  of  destiny.  Good  heavens  1 
imagine  life  stripped  of  its  illusions  I  Ah  I  stop  a 
moment." 

We  were  in  front  of  Madame  Clifton's  booth, 
and  he  drew  me  aside  to  it.  Madame  and  her  two 


Marcel    Levignet  329 

young  helpers  were  selling  flowers  for  corsage  and 
buttonhole,  and  Levignet  took  up  a  sprig  of  lilac 
which  he  inspected  without  appearing  to  be  aware 
who  was  in  charge  of  the  booth. 

"  Ten  francs  at  the  least,  I  warrant  you,"  he 
said  speculatively  eyeing  the  sprig  and  its  knot  of 
ribbon. 

"  Twenty,  Monsieur  Levignet." 

Levignet  looked  up,  and  affected  surprise  on  see- 
ing the  speaker. 

"  Ah !  Madame  Clifton,  it  is  you !  Good  luck. 
I  take  it  as  a  happy  omen  that  I  stumble  on  your 
stall  for  my  boutonniere." 

"How  so,  monsieur?"  Madame  asked,  her 
hard  lips  scarcely  softening  in  a  smile. 

"  Why,  these  flowers  are  an  augury  of  the 
felicity  that  is  to  come  to  me  with  your  incom- 
parable carriage  horses,  madame." 

"  I  sent  you  word  that  I  had  concluded  not  to 
sell." 

There  was  just  a  perceptible  unpleasantness  in 
her  casual  tone,  but  Levignet  did  not  seem  to 
detect  it.  He  nodded  smilingly. 

"  Oh  1  I  understood,  of  course,  that  your  note 
was  a  courteous  intimation  that  I  had  undervalued 
your  treasure;  but," — he  put  down  the  twenty 
francs  for  the  sprig  already  in  his  buttonhole, — "  if 
I  cheerfully  pay  double  the  estimated  price  for  a 
posy  that  pleases  me,  you  may  be  sure  that  I  shall 


330  Marcel    Levignet 

not  hesitate  to  give  full  value  for  the  thing  I  may 
happen  to  think  necessary  to  my  happiness." 

Madame  gave  a  little  laugh  that  was  almost 
mirthful.  She  seemed  about  to  put  into  words  the 
mockery  that  glinted  in  her  eyes,  and  Levignet 
tilted  his  head  expectantly.  But  as  she  paused  on 
a  "  Well,  monsieur,"  someone  called  to  her  from 
the  other  end  of  the  stall.  She  glanced  in  that 
direction,  nodded  and  moved  away  from  us. 
Levignet  raised  his  hat  in  a  parting  salute  of  which 
she  was  unconscious. 

'"  Misguided  woman,"  he  sighed,  and  lifting  the 
lapel  of  his  coat  inhaled  the  fragrance  of  the 
lilacs.  "What  a  pity,"  he  added,  "that  a 
woman's  cleverness  so  generally  reacts  on  herself." 

He  took  my  arm  and  we  made  our  way  gradu- 
ally to  the  exit  and  passed  out  into  the  free  air. 
It  was  good  to  escape  from  the  oppression  of  an 
atmosphere  charged  with  all  the  drowsy  perfumes 
that  gay  women  love. 

"  Dieu ! "  exclaimed  Levignet,  inflating  his 
lungs.  "  I  am  more  than  ready  for  our  drive  in 
the  Bois.  What  in  the  name  of  the  legion  of 
saints  would  become  of  the  Parisian  if  he  did  not 
have  that  superb  laboratory  of  nature  in  which  to 
restore  his  chemical  waste!  I  grant  you  that  he 
does  not  always  go  there  with  an  intelligent  pur- 
pose to  conserve  physical  energy  or  develop  moral 
stamina;  but  what  of  that?  If  in  the  chase  of 


Marcel    Levignet  331 

Folly  you  run  into  the  embrace  of  Hygeia,  why 
quarrel  with  the  incentive?  Here  is  a  suitable 
cab.  Take  your  place.  An  hour  in  the  Bois, 
cocker.  And,  if  you  please,  friend  Summerville, 
let  us  drive  in  the  fellowship  of  silence.  I  have 
the  instinct  of  what  you  would  say,  and  I  am  not 
in  a  combative  humour.  The  scent  of  these  lilacs 
under  my  nose  calls  up  a  memory  of  my  youth.  I 
shall  slip  into  Arcady,  listen  to  old  Pan  piping  to 
the  water  nymphs,  and  possibly  dance  with  divini- 
ties in  gossamer.  It  is  a  familiar  pastime  with 
me.  If  you  buzz  me  into  consciousness  before  I 
round  out  my  reverie,  I'll  dump  you  by  the  wayside 
and  dine  without  you — sorry  as  I  should  be  to 
leave  you  unacquainted  with  the  excellent  Andre's 
cuisine.  Is  it  understood?" 

"  Oh  I  I  think  I  can  manage  to  scare  up  a  reverie 
of  my  own." 

"  Sensible  fellow.  We  may  compare  notes 
afterwards.  A  man  seldom  dips  well  down  into 
himself  without  bringing  something  valuable  to 
the  surface.  The  whole  secret  of  life  lies  in  the 
knowledge  how  to  explore  the  wonderland  of  self. 
The  philosopher's  '  Ton  gnothe '  is  the  end-all 
and  mend-all  for  which  the  silly  alchemists  fired 
their  crucibles  in  vain.  The  only  difference  be- 
tween you  and  me  and  the  fat  imbecile  on  the  box 
there,  is  in  the  faculty  of  introspection.  Allons, 
done!  Let  us  indulge  our  superiority." 


XXXVIII 

THAT  Levignet  should  go  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth  for  a  dinner  seemed  to  be  a 
freakish  bit  of  business,  until  we  were 
settled  at  a  table  on  the  terrace  of  the  "  Little 
White  Cottage,"  which  was  neither  white  nor  a 
cottage,  but  a  grey-toned  mystery  of  haphazard 
architecture  overrun  with  creepers.  The  terrace, 
sheltered  from  the  sun  by  a  canopy  of  ivied  lattice- 
work, went  down  to  the  water's  edge,  the  barrier 
of  loose  stone  being  scarcely  a  foot  above  the  wash 
of  the  river.  From  where  we  sat  there  was  hardly 
a  house  to  be  seen  and  Paris  was  a  century  away. 
Men  and  boys,  clad  only  in  breeches,  were  sport- 
ing in  the  river,  a  huge  black,  noisy  dog  in  the 
frolic,  women  and  girls  on  the  bank  enjoying  the 
spectacle,  calling  out  jests  to  the  swimmers,  throw- 
ing sticks  for  which  dog  and  boys  contended. 
Further  out  in  the  stream  some  young  people  in 
boats  seemed  bent  on  a  general  capsising  and  went 
rocking  and  drifting  by,  the  girls  nervous  and 
shrieking  to  the  mischievous  laughter  of  their  tor- 
mentors. The  ensemble  was  as  near  an  approach 
to  Arcadian  joy,  simplicity  and  charm  as  civilisa- 
tion knows  how  to  make,  and  I  should  not  have 

332 


Marcel    Levignet  333 

been  greatly  surprised  to  see  Levignet  plunge  in 
to  wanton  among  the  amphibians. 

"Well?"  demanded  my  friend,  viewing  my 
satisfaction,  "  can  you  forgive  me  for  whipping 
you  away  from  the  adventures  of  the  rue  Royale 
and  its  fashion  plates?  " 

"Farceur!" 

Andre,  proprietor  of  the  "Little  White  Cot- 
tage," round  and  short,  with  clean  double  chin 
nearly  obscuring  his  fresh  white  collar  and  tie,  his 
stout  legs  straining  at  their  black  casing,  came 
trotting  from  the  house  beaming  with  pride  and 
affection  as  he  panted  out  apologies  for  not  having 
been  ready  to  welcome  his  "  Ires  cher  ami  et  loon 
•patron "  at  the  door.  He  accused  himself  un- 
sparingly as  he  shook  Levignet' s  hand;  telling  me 
that  he  would  not  esteem  a  visit  from  the  President 
as  honourable  to  him  and  his  house  as  the  presence 
of  "  this  foremost  of  men  who  has  now  to  pardon 
my  first  affront  " ;  declaring  that  his  infidelity  would 
cost  him  an  age  of  regrets;  laughing,  chattering 
and  wiping  away  tears  in  a  joyous  self-abasement 
to  which  he  seemed  prepared  to  sacrifice  the  re- 
mainder of  the  afternoon. 

"  I  swear,  Andre,  you  will  make  me  repent  of 
coming  if  you  slander  yourself  with  another  word," 
Levignet  succeeded  in  making  him  understand. 

"  Then  I  should  repent  of  having  been  born," 
Andre  replied,  falling  back  into  an  attitude  of 


334  Marcel    Levignet 

respectful  attention  to  order.  "  When  the  son  of 
Prosper  Levignet  commands,  it  is  the  pleasure  of 
Andre  Laroche  to  obey." 

"  Not  at  all,  old  friend.  You  must  give  M. 
Summerville  no  false  impressions  of  our  thirty 
years  of  fraternity." 

"  Fraternity !  Ha !  you  heard  him  say  '  frater- 
nity,' monsieur,  so  I  do  not  presume.  But  shall 
I  tell  you  what  he  means  by  '  fraternity '  ?  " 

"  Have  a  care,  Andre.  We  come  to  dine  with 
you,  not  to  listen  to  a  discourse  on  terms.  I  am 
hungry.  No  trifling  with  appetites  that  come  so 
far  for  service." 

"  Your  appetite  shall  be  flattered,  have  no  fear. 
I  have  not  been  idle  since  your  note  came.  But 
1  fraternity '  between  Marcel  Levignet  and  Andre 
Laroche !  Monsieur  shall  judge." 

"  You  would  waste  your  breath,  my  good  Andre, 
my  friend  here  is  an  American;  he  will  not  under- 
stand your  French.  If  you  would  have  him  know 
how  unworthy  I  am  to  be  your  brother,  you  must 
find  a  way  to  tell  him  in  English." 

"  Ah !  Marcel  Levignet,  you  will  yet  manage  to 
break  my  heart.  You  choke  me  off  always  the 
same;  but  some  day  I  shall  speak.  And  if 
you  will  pardon  me  for  saying  it,  monsieur," 
Andre  looked  as  sorrowfully  at  me  as  the  good- 
natured  round  of  his  face  would  permit,  "  no 
gentleman  should  be  ignorant  of  French.  It  is  a 


Marcel   Levignet  335 

crime  not  to  understand  the  language  in  which  the 
good  God  first  spoke  to  man." 

Levignet  laughed  as  I  looked  blankly  out  on  to 
the  river  as  if  I  had  not  understood. 

"  That  is  true,  Andre,  but  you  see  how  little 
my  friend  appreciates  it.  You  must  reason  with 
him  through  the  stomach.  What  have  you  to 
eat?" 

"  Leave  all  to  me.  You  shall  see  if  those  fel- 
lows who  give  themselves  airs  in  Paris  have  a 
monopoly  on  the  art  of  good  living.  I  do  not 
profess  to  serve  all  the  world  alike;  but  when  it 
comes  to  tickling  the  palate  of  a  certain  Marcel 
Levignet — well,  the  filysees  chef  may  take  off  his 
cap  to  old  Andre." 

So  saying  and  wagging  his  head  in  right  self- 
approval,  he  trotted  into  the  house,  recovering 
spirits  with  every  bounce. 

"  You  have  cheated  my  curiosity  by  a  cheap 
trick,  Levignet.  What  act  of  benevolence  is  he  so 
eager  to  proclaim  to  your  credit  ?  He  doesn't  look 
like  a  man  who  has  been  in  the  shadow  of  the 
gallows  or  the  chopping  block." 

"No,"  Levignet  smiled;  "it  was  his  father. 
But  do  not  predicate  a  romance  of  which  I  am  the 
hero  on  the  prattle  of  this  antique  infant.  The 
thing  was  sordid  and  prosaic  enough — one  of  the 
commonplaces  of  low  life.  You  may  see  some- 
thing like  it  any  day  under  the  '  Fails  Divers '  of 


336  Marcel    Levignet 

your  daily  paper.  Jean  Laroche,  Andre's  father, 
had  a  passion  for  absinthe  and  dribbled  his  wits 
away  as  the  water  dripped  over  the  sugar  into  his 
glass  of  poison.  You  know  that  sort  of  thing 
must  lead  to  something.  A  hammer  in  the  hands 
of  a  madman  and  a  woman  sleeping  in  her  bed 
suggest  a  denouement;  Pere  Lachaise  for  the 
woman;  Charenton  for  the  man,  a  natural  epi- 
logue. Andre  was  then  ten — he  is  five  years  my 
senior — and  he  had  a  sister  of  three.  My  father 
saw  the  lad  cuddling  the  babe  in  his  arms,  and  be- 
ing of  the  weakly  compassionate  order  of  irration- 
alists,  undertook  their  protection.  That  is  the 
whole  of  it.  When  my  father  wearied  of  the 
world  and  left  me  the  heir  to  the  fruits  of  his  in- 
dustry, in  closing  out  the  business  I  allowed  Andre 
a  trifle  which  he  has  multiplied  into  a  snug  fortune 
by  ministering  to  the  gluttony  of  ne'er-do-wells 
like  you  and  me.  Until  a  year  or  so  ago  Andre 
kept  his  wits  as  orderly  as  his  cash  accounts  and 
was  content  to  let  me  come  and  go  without  molesta- 
tion. But  he  is  dropping  prematurely  into  senility 
— has  lost  his  sense  of  proportion — has  contracted 
the  disease  of  gratitude — fancies  himself  under 
obligations  to  me — exalts  me  into  a  demi-god  of 
disinterested  benevolence — forgets  that  we  were 
comrades  in  our  artless  days  and  tries  to  get  under 
my  feet — innocently  blind  to  the  fact  that  he  has 
only  to  scorch  my  omelette  or  serve  me  an  under- 


Marcel   Levignet  337 

done  entree  to  blight  the  sympathy  of  years  and 
alienate  me  forever.  He  nearly  cooked  his  goose 
with  me  a  dozen  years  ago  by  paying  into  my  bank 
the  principal  and  interest  of  the  bagatelle  I  gave 
him  for  a  start  in  life.  I  refused  to  see  him  for  a 
twelve-month.  Then  we  compromised,  he  taking 
back  the  pittance  and  I  agreeing  to  eat  dinners 
with  him  till  the  score  was  cleaned  off.  An  obstin- 
ate old  chucklehead,  but  lovable — except  for  his 
mania.  We  must  keep  him  from  ridiculous  out- 
bursts by  speaking  English  when  he  hovers  over 
us  in  solicitude." 

A  capital  dinner  timed  its  courses  with  the 
idling  down  of  the  sun  and  the  diminuendo  of  the 
river  noises;  and  when  the  cloth  was  removed  for 
the  finishing  bottle  of  wine,  there  was  a  silence  so 
serene  that  we  could  catch  the  thin,  sharp  cheep 
of  the  bats  venturing  into  the  purple  twilight. 

Andre  came  balancing  a  crusted  bottle  which 
he  set  on  the  table  with  reverence. 

"Though  there  is  no  label,  I  can  assure 
you " 

"  Chut!  "  interrupted  Levignet.  "  Do  you  think, 
Andre,  that  we  have  no  nicer  taste  than  those 
fantastic  amateurs  who  swear  by  tagged  vintages? 
I'll  risk  my  digestion  on  the  corner  of  your  cellar 
from  which  this  bottle  came." 

Andre  chuckled,  carefully  wiped  the  bottle's 
mouth  and  filled  our  glasses,  the  wine,  by  some 


338  Marcel    Levignet 

subtle  necromancy  of  its  own,  stealing  back  a  faint 
glow  from  the  invisible  sun. 

"  Fetch  a  glass  for  yourself,  and  drink  with  us, 
Andre." 

"  I !  not  for  the  world." 

"  It  is  for  my  pleasure,  imbecile.  I  wish  you 
to  drink  my  father's  health." 

Andre  turned  without  a  word  and  went  into  the 
house.  When  he  came  again  he  only  half  filled 
his  glass,  tinkled  it  against  ours  and  holding  it  be- 
fore him  said: 

"  In  love  of  your  father,  Marcel  Levignet,  I 
am  on  an  equality  with  you.  Each  of  us  owes  our 
life  to  him.  You  were  his  son;  eh,  well!  I,  too, 
was  his  son.  Good.  I  drink  to  his  health — and 
yours.  Levignet,  father  and  son." 

He  drank,  dividing  his  wine  into  two  swallows, 
the  first  with  a  glance  heavenward,  then  bowing  to 
Levignet.  The  glass  emptied,  he  shattered  it 
against  the  edge  of  the  table. 

"  And  they  say  there  is  no  loyalty  left  in  the 
hearts  of  men,"  Levignet  said  sotto  voce  in  Eng- 
lish. "  My  father  has  been  dead  nearly  thirty-six 
years,  and  yet  this  old  fellow — well,  Summerville, 
let  us  drink  long  life  to  Andre  Laroche  and  the 
dinners  of  the  'Little  White  Cottage.'"  He 
dipped  his  glass  toward  me  and  we  drank. 

Andre  rubbed  his  hands  comfortably  together 
and  smiled. 


Marcel    Levignet  339 

"  There  is  not  much  more  of  life  left  for  me  and 
I  have  no  heir  to  keep  up  the  dinners — but  what 
of  that?  I  have  lived;  I  am  alive;  when  all  is 
done  it  will  suffice  if  they  may  write  on  my  tomb- 
stone, '  An  Honest  Man  and  a  Good  Cook.' " 

"  An  epitaph  Napoleon  might  envy  you,  Andre. 
Some  cigars,  if  you  please." 

A  little  later,  while  we  were  smoking  alone,  en- 
joying the  stillness  and  the  slow  deepening  of  the 
twilight,  Levignet  suddenly  asked,  after  some 
minutes  of  silence: 

"  What,  to  your  mind,  is  the  noblest  passage  in 
literature,  sacred  or  profane,  ancient  or  modern?  " 

I  had  no  ready  answer,  but  after  some  hesitation 
repeated  a  passage  from  Shakespeare.  He  nodded 
in  appreciation. 

"  Superb,  truly.  There  is  a  majesty  in  your 
paragon  of  poets,  a  grandeur,  that  makes  us  feel 
very  little  when  we  measure  our  intellectual  stature 
by  his.  But — you  will  laugh  at  me,  I  fear — I 
think  the  sublime  in  literature  is  not  that  which  fills 
our  minds  with  wonder  at  the  author's  genius,  but 
that  which  exalts  our  hearts  by  the  simplicity  of  its 
truth.  For  me  there  is  nothing  written  that  can 
excel  in  beauty,  in  purity,  in  nobility,  this  sentence 
from  the  New  Testament :  *  Greater  love  hath  no 
man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his  life  for  his 
friends.'  It  is  perfect  as  an  expression  of  the 
loftiest  possible  conception  of  human  privilege." 


340  Marcel    Levignet 

An  indefinable  something  in  his  tone  impressed 
me,  and  prompted  me  to  combat  his  view. 

"  That  cannot  be  taken  literally  as  a  truth,  nor 
interpreted  as  a  privilege.  The  conceivable  cir- 
cumstances in  which  a  man  may  really  lay  down  his 
life  are  of  so  extraordinary  a  character  that  they 
may  be  said  never  to  arise  for  the  individual. 
Even  the  soldier  goes  into  battle  nerved  by  the 
chance  of  escape  in  his  favour.  Whatever  the 
danger  into  which  a  man  thrusts  himself  or  is 
driven,  he  struggles  to  preserve  his  life,  hoping  for 
the  miraculous  when  the  odds  are  overwhelming. 
Man  may  yield  up  his  life  splendidly  when  the  de- 
mand is  inexorable — nothing  in  the  ordinary  course 
of  human  experience  gives  him  the  privilege  of 
laying  it  down  voluntarily." 

"  Tut,  my  dear  Summerville,"  he  replied  airily, 
"  don't  talk  in  that  sterile,  orthodox  fashion.  It 
puts  such  a  dull  limit  to  the  excursions  of  mind  and 
the  expansion  of  soul.  That,  my  boy,  is  the 
philosophy  of  the  nursery,  logically,  but  stupidly, 
applied  to  the  universal  cosmogony.  It  belongs 
to  the  infant  reasoning  that  evolved  the  Jovian 
myths.  Good  heavens  I  Do  you  still  imagine 
that  divinity  is  imprisoned  by  a  carcass?  Do  you 
fancy  that  man's  egotistic  assumption  concerning 
his  godhood  is  really  a  deistic  ordinance  ?  Do  you 
suppose  that  man's  theological  theories  affect  the 
motion  of  the  spheres  ?  What  fatuity !  Look  at 


Marcel    Levignet  341 

these  bats  in  their  erratic  chase  of  invisible  midges 
— how  they  vanish  as  you  try  in  vain  to  follow 
their  swerves  with  your  eyes.  How  do  you  know 
that  one  of  them  has  not  swerved  down  into  the 
river  as  food  to  the  fishes  ?  And  what  do  you  care 
if  one  has?  But  is  it  any  more  than  that  when  a 
man  takes  his  plunge  and  shakes  free  of  the  flesh 
with  which  his  five  senses  have  for  a  time  deluded 
him  ?  Do  you  fancy  that  he  is  done  with  life  for 
the  plunge?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  He  has  only 
changed  the  combination  and  seized  on  the  privi- 
lege of  new  experience.  Change  is  not  demolition, 
my  friend;  neither  is  death  definitive,  for  life  is  not 
an  apportionment  of  years.  Our  bodies  are  merely 
pawns  to  serve  our  purposes  in  the  grand  game  of 
destiny  in  which  we  are  more  or  less  intelligent 
players.  What  is  the  sacrifice  of  a  pawn  if  you 
establish  a  winning  combination  ?  The  game  goes 
on  when  the  pawns  are  gone.  I  shall  be  an  entity 
in  spite  of  the  grave.  The  burial  of  this  body, 
when  I  have  done  with  it,  will  not  prevent  me  go- 
ing on  with  my  phantasy  of  self-evolution.  And 
if  I  may  quit  my  body  when  disease  has  made  it 
untenantable,  may  I  not  quit  it  when  I  find  it  un- 
profitable ?  I  may  change  my  coat  when  I  please ; 
I  can  throw  it  away,  if  I  will — or  I  may  give  it  to 
my  friend  for  his  protection.  Do  you  think  I  am 
less  free  to  do  as  I  please  with  the  surtout  that  is 
called  my  life?  Let  me  say  one  thing  for  the 


342  Marcel    Levignet 

ease  of  conscience — my  reason  does  not  admit  the 
possibility  that  man  can  mar,  by  the  most  in- 
finitesimal fraction  of  change,  one  of  God's  plans 
any  more  than  he  can  stop  the  revolution  of  the 
universe.  Man  can  lay  down  his  life  at  will; 
therefore,  I  must  believe  that  neither  the  destruc- 
tion nor  the  preservation  of  human  life  has  any 
bearing  on  the  inscrutable  ordering  of  the  divine 
intelligence.  I  am  willing  to  think  that  the  Christ 
saw  as  clearly  into  the  mystery  of  existence  as  mind 
can  penetrate,  and  by  your  leave,  I  shall  hold  to 
my  opinion  that  the  loftiest  conception  of  human 
privilege  is,  that  a  man  may  lay  down  his  life  for 
his  friend.  It  is  more  than  my  opinion,  it  is  my 
conviction;  and  living  is  more  real,  significant, 
glorious  in  my  conception  because  with  that  con- 
viction goes  a  sentimental  feeling  that  would 
make  it  as  easy  and  as  pleasant  for  me  to  kiss  my 
hand  in  an  adieu  to  life  for  my  friend's  sake  as  it 
would  be  to  pluck  a  rose  for  the  adornment  of 
beauty." 

"  But  to  take  a  life,  Levignet " 

"  We  do  it  daily,  hourly.  The  child  running 
in  the  innocent  joy  of  a  butterfly  chase,  crushes 
colonies  of  peaceful  citizens  of  the  clover  fields 
under  her  dainty  feet.  It  is  only  egotism  that  has 
got  us  into  the  way  of  thinking  that  man's  life  is 
more  precious  to  nature  than  the  life  of  the  gnats 
our  bats  are  catching  over  the  river.  Value  lies  in 


Marcel    Levignet  343 

service,  my  dear  infant;  and,  logically,  obstruction 
impairs  value.  The  survival  of  the  fittest  is  not  a 
theory,  it  is  an  inexorable  law  of  progress.  I 
do  not  say  that  the  law  has  my  entire  approval, 
but  I  yield  to  it,  and Ah!  it  is  you,  Gas- 
pard!" 

"  At  your  service,  m'sieu'." 

I  looked  around  at  the  man  who  had  approached 
from  my  rear,  and  as  he  took  off  his  hat  there 
was  light  enough  on  his  face  for  me  to  recognise  a 
footman  I  had  seen  on  the  box  of  Madame  Clif- 
ton's carriage.  I  recalled  the  name  as  that  of  the 
servant  who  had  assisted  in  the  outrage  on 
Levignet. 

"  Has  Madame  Clifton  sent  you  to  me?  " 

"  No,  m'sieu',  I  come  to  warn  you." 

"  That  is  very  good  of  you,  Gaspard.  Warn- 
ings always  afford  me  entertainment.  What  is  the 
nature  of  yours  ?  " 

''  This  gentleman "  Gaspard  hesitated. 

"  M.  Summerville  shares  my  interest  in  what  the 
immortal  Balzac  styles  the  Human  Comedy.  He 
is  in  my  confidence ;  admit  him  to  yours.  Begin  by 
telling  us  how  you  traced  me  to  this  charming  re- 
treat, for  it  hints  of  cunning,  Gaspard,  a  quality  in 
servants  that  insures  them  some  sort  of  elevation. 
Who  knows  but  you  will  be  Minister  of  Police, 
Gaspard?" 

"  It  was  simple  enough,  m'sieu'.     I  called  at 


344  Marcel   Levignet 

your  house  and  your  man  said  you  would  dine  here. 
I  took  the  chance  of  finding  you." 

"  Excellent.  You  see  what  it  is,  Summerville, 
to  have  established  a  reputation  of  methodical  con- 
duct. Had  we  altered  our  programme  this  fine 
fellow  would  have  been  cheated  of  the  reward  of 
noble  action  and  you  and  I  would  have  missed  a 
zestful  finale  to  our  symposium.  But  I  must  tax 
Joseph  with  indiscretion." 

"  He  only  talked  when  I  had  convinced  him  that 
it  was  to  your  interest,  m'sieu'." 

"  Imagine  anyone  cajoling  our  foolish  old 
Suzel,  friend  Summerville !  Well,  Gaspard,  what 
is  it?" 

The  fellow  fumbled  with  his  hat,  either  reluct- 
ant to  begin,  or  uncertain  what  to  say.  Finally 
he  stammered  out  an  opening. 

"  I  have  always  been  ashamed  of  what  occurred 
that  day,  m'sieu'.  But  my  place  has  been  a  good 
one,  I  could  not  throw  it  away.  Well,  I  have 
wished  to  make  amends.  That  is  why  I  come  now 
to  tell  you  what  I  have  heard.  Madame  and  the 
Marquis  were  talking  this  afternoon.  It  is  not 
my  habit  to  listen;  but  I  heard  your  name  and 
madame  was  so  angry  that — I  listened.  They 
have  laid  a  trap  for  you.  They  think  you  will 
come  to  madame's  house  to-night.  Well,  m'sieu', 
if  you  do  there  will  be  an  '  accident.'  They  swear 
you  shall  not  escape  alive." 


Marcel   Levignet  345 

"  Ah  I  they  swear  that,  do  they,  Gaspard?  And 
you  would  add  to  your  warning  the  advice  that  I 
postpone  my  visit  to  madame?  " 

"  Indefinitely,  m'sieu'." 

'  You  are  a  philosopher,  Gaspard,  and  I  should 
like  to  take  further  counsel  of  you — on  terms  profit- 
able to  yourself.  Come  into  the  house  with  me 
for  a  few  moments  I  Wait  for  me  here,  Summer- 
ville.  Diana  is  about  due;  fancy  yourself  En- 
dymion  and  beguile  the  time  till  I  rejoin  you." 

He  went  in  with  Gaspard,  and  to  stretch  my 
legs  I  left  the  terrace  and  strolled  along  the  river 
bank.  Allowing  twenty  minutes  for  the  confer- 
ence, I  returned  to  the  terrace,  but  as  there  was  no 
sign  of  Levignet,  I  sat  down  to  a  glass  of  wine  and 
a  fresh  cigar.  The  stars  were  changing  from  sil- 
ver to  gold  in  the  deepening  blue  of  the  sky,  drop- 
ping nearer  and  nearer  to  the  tree  tops,  and  there 
was  no  sound  louder  than  the  splash  of  an  oar  on 
the  further  side  of  the  river.  Some  subtle  sense 
of  association  called  up  vividly  before  my  mind  an 
altogether  different  scene — a  sweep  of  the  Gulf 
Coast  with  the  dawn  flooding  into  splendour;  a  low 
house  with  a  long  verandah,  and  there  at  the  win- 
dow a  girl's  face,  wonderful,  wistful,  looking  to- 
ward the  morning;  and  yonder  by  the  myrtle  hedge 
a  youth  looking  toward  the  girl's  face,  wonderful, 
wistful.  The  fragrance  of  magnolias,  the  song  of 
the  mocking  bird,  the  rippling  plash  of  the  bay, 


346  Marcel   Levignet 

the  flash  of  jewels  that  the  breeze  tried  to  steal 
from  the  climbing  roses,  the  glory  of  the  dawn, 
the  light  in  the  woman's  eyes  and  the  passion  of 
the  youth — what  more  is  needed  for  an  after-din- 
ner reverie  ?  I  do  not  know  how  long  I  had  been 
absorbed  in  it  when  Andre  roused  me  by  setting  a 
candle  on  the  table. 

"  I  brought  the  light  that  you  may  read  the 
note,"  he  explained. 

"What  note?" 

"  The  one  M.  Levignet  bade  me  give  you  half 
an  hour  after  he  had  gone." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  M.  Levignet  is 
gone?"  ' 

"  Half  an  hour  ago — fully  half  an  hour  ago,  but 
no  more ;  I  was  exact." 

I  tore  open  the  note,  not  a  little  agitated,  nor 
did  I  feel  reassured  by  the  lines. 

"  It  distresses  me  to  give  you  the  slip,  but  you  know  it 
was  according  to  programme  that  I  should  take  leave  of 
you  at  half  past  eight,  and  I  do  not  so  much  anticipate  the 
hour  but  you  can  forgive  me.  However,  we  are  to  meet 
at  the  Foyot,  you  remember;  and  I  am  going  to  ask  you 
to  oblige  me  by  getting  there  a  little  earlier  than  the  ap- 
pointed time — say  10:30 — but  do  not  come  in  a  temper. 
I  find  this  Gaspard  a  very  sensible  fellow.  He  has  saved 
me  no  end  of  trouble.  But  he  is  improvident.  He  refuses 
some  feathers  I  offer  him  for  his  nest.  Or  it  may  be  that 
he  prefers  to  garrote  me  on  the  way  to  town.  I  should 
be  very  sorry  not  to  preside  at  my  fete ;  but  if  Gaspard  or 


Marcel    Levignet  347 

any  other  minister  of  fate  deprives  me  of  my  felicity,  be 
gracious  enough,  my  dear  Summerville,  to  act  as  my 
deputy.  Au  revoir — and  do  not  attempt  the  quixotic. 

"  M.  L." 

I  felt  a  chill  in  the  soft  air  of  the  evening,  I 
became  limp  and  nerveless.  The  note  fell  from 
my  hand  to  the  ground.  Andre  stooped  anxiously 
to  pick  it  up. 

"  Mon  Dieu !  "  he  said  "  why  is  Monsieur  so 
disturbed?  What  does  the  good  Marcel  say?  " 

Without  asking  my  leave,  he  read  the  lines  and 
laughed,  a  relieved,  good-natured  laugh  that 
angered  me. 

"Hoi  Hoi  A  little  joke  at  the  expense  of 
monsieur,"  he  chuckled. 

"  A  joke  at  which  you  will  not  laugh  to-morrow, 
my  friend,  so  enjoy  it  while  you  may." 

I  rose  and  pushed  past  him  as  I  spoke,  hurried 
to  the  gate  and  went  out  into  the  highway.  Andre 
followed,  panting  in  alarm,  calling  after  me,  now 
pleadingly,  now  threateningly,  alternately  offering 
me  the  blessing  of  a  saint  or  threatening  me  with 
the  vengeance  of  the  furies;  but  though  I  pitied 
him  afterward,  my  eagerness  to  get  to  Paris  com- 
pelled me  to  ignore  him  then.  I  never  again  saw 
Andre  Laroche,  though  I  dined  the  other  day  on 
the  terrace  of  "  La  Petite  Chaumiere  Blanche." 


XXXIX 

ARRIVED  in  Paris,  I  drove  straight  to 
Levignet's  residence.  Joseph  opened  the 
door  to  me  and  answered  my  questions 
without  seeming  to  attach  any  importance  to  them. 
M.  Levignet  had  come  home  an  hour  ago,  evidently 
in  capital  spirits.  He  had  dressed  for  the  even- 
ing. He  had  gone  away  but  a  few  minutes  before 
I  came.  No;  he  had  not  said  where  he  was  going, 
but  he  had  excused  Joseph  from  waiting  up.  Yes, 
he  had  telephoned  to  the  Prefect  of  Police,  telling 
him  there  would  be  no  need  to  send  the  men  he 
had  promised.  Yes,  he  had  said  why — he  had 
nothing  for  them  to  do,  he  had  changed  his  plan 
of  entertainment.  The  Prefect  said  something  at 
which  monsieur  laughed,  and  monsieur  invited 
the  Prefect  to  lunch  to-morrow. 

"  And  now,  M.  Summerville,  may  I  get  the  card 
monsieur  left  for  you?  " 

"  Why  didn't  you  get  that  in  the  first  place,  you 
blockhead?" 

"  Monsieur  forgets  that  he  has  been  questioning 
me." 

Joseph  bowed  to  excuse  himself  and  went  for 
the  card.  It  bore  but  a  couple  of  lines  in  Eng- 
lish in  Levignet's  fine  script. 

348 


Marcel    Levignet  349 

"  I  knew  you  would  try  to  collar  me,  novice.   Go  dress 
for  10:30,  Hotel  Foyot.    Room  engaged." 

I  thrust  the  card  into  my  pocket  and  returned  to 
my  cab,  persuading  myself  that  after  all  I  had 
little  reason  to  fear  any  untoward  incident  as  the 
result  of  Levignet's  eccentric  conduct.     Apparently 
something  had  arisen  to  alter  his  purposes.     He 
no  longer  had  a  use  for  the  Prefect's  men,  and  he 
emphasised  the  appointment  for  a  merry  supper  at 
the  Foyot.  Clearly  he  was  bent  on  an  evening  alto- 
gether different  from  that  of  my  gloomy  fore- 
boding.    Yet  why  had  he  stolen  away  from  me  in 
the  company  of  the  fellow  Gaspard?     What  was 
the  communication  Gaspard  had  made  to  him? 
Was  it  of  a  character  to  strengthen  or  abate  the 
resolution  to  which  Levignet  had  committed  him- 
self? Was  his  light  humour  simulated  or  genuine? 
Was  the  invitation  to  the  Foyot  an  artifice  or  bona 
fide?     I  could  not  subdue  my  doubts  in  spite  of 
my  hopefulness.     I  tried  to  think  of  something 
worth  my  doing  as  I  stood  hesitating  to  enter  the 
cab.     Mechanically  I  looked  at  my  watch  in  the 
light  of  the  street  lamp  and  found  it  to  be  a  quarter 
to  nine.     A  sudden  remembrance  that  nine  was 
the  hour  at  which  Levignet  had  intended  to  make 
his  call  on  Madame  Clifton,  decided  me  to  drive 
to  her  address.     I  gave  the  cabman  the  order.     It 
was  just  nine  when  I  alighted  at  the  door.     The 


350  Marcel   Levignet 

house  was  dark,  but  for  the  dull  glow  shining 
through  the  fanlight.  I  rang  the  bell  feverishly. 

"Madame  Clifton?"  I  demanded  when  the 
door  was  opened  by  the  lackey. 

"  Not  at  home,  monsieur." 

"  At  what  hour  is  she  expected?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  when  madame  will  return,  mon- 
sieur." 

"  But  madame  was  prepared  for  a  visit  at  this 
hour."  The  man  gave  a  slight  start,  and  I  felt 
sure  that  Madame  Clifton  was  in  the  house. 

"  It  is  imperative  that  I  see  her,"  I  insisted. 

"Are  you  M.  Levignet?"  he  asked,  trying  to 
get  a  better  view  of  me,  as  I  stood  in  the  shadow. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  promptly,  inferring  that  he 
did  not  know  Levignet. 

"  I  was  to  tell  M.  Levignet,  if  he  called,  that 

Madame  Clifton  will Pardon  me,  monsieur, 

I  was  to  know  you  by  your  white  hair  and  mous- 
tache. If  you  will  be  so  obliging  as  to  stand  in 
the  light." 

"  I  am  not  M.  Levignet,  but  I  represent  him. 
I  come  in  the  interest " 

"  Pardon  me,  monsieur." 

The  door  was  closed  in  my  face  as  I  was  at- 
tempting to  enter,  but  there  was  no  response  to  my 
repeated  knocks.  I  could  not  stand  there  to 
create  a  disturbance,  but,  certain  that  Levignet  had 
not  yet  called,  I  determined  to  wait  in  the  neigh- 


Marcel    Levignet  351 

bourhood  and  watch  for  his  coming.  Sitting  in 
the  cab,  which  I  kept  crawling  up  and  down  the 
block  or  loitering  at  the  corners,  I  let  half  an  hour 
go  by  before  it  occurred  to  me  that  Gaspard  had 
prepared  Levignet  against  the  very  trap  into  which 
I  was  trying,  with  belated  and  misdirected  zeal,  to 
prevent  his  falling.  With  some  uncomplimentary 
reflections  on  my  peculiar  astuteness,  I  gave  up  the 
idea  of  playing  guardian  to  a  man  so  little  likely 
to  benefit  by  my  services,  and  ordered  the  cabman 
to  drive  to  my  hotel. 

That  a  man's  moods  change  with  his  dress  is,  I 
believe  a  common  experience,  and  when  I  had  put 
on  my  evening  clothes  my  ideas  came  into  harmony 
with  the  social  pleasantries  suggested  by  that  attire. 
My  prophetic  vision  was  rose-coloured;  I  could 
hear  the  musical  laughter  of  'Toinette,  and  see  the 
mirthful  sparkle  in  her  eyes  as  she  clinked  glasses 
with  Levignet  and  wished  him  a  hundred  years' 
addition  to  his  perennial  youth.  De  Noel's  well- 
bred  gravity  I  fancied  giving  way  to  hilarity  as 
Levignet  recounted,  in  satirical  humour,  the  prank 
he  had  played  on  me  in  the  afternoon.  Jest  and 
mirth,  and  gaiety  to  the  splash  of  champagne,  and 
Levigent's  fete  night  memorable  through  a  score 
of  years !  I  fell  into  a  nervous  impatience  to  par- 
ticipate in  the  scene  so  cheering  to  my  imagination, 
and  arrived  at  the  Foyot  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in 
advance  of  my  appointed  time. 


352  Marcel    Levigent 

M.  Levignet  had  not  yet  come,  they  told  me, 
but  the  rooms  were  in  readiness  if  I  chose  to  go  up, 
though  supper  was  not  to  be  served  until  eleven. 

"Yes,  I  am  early;  M.  Levignet  will  be  here 
presently,  however.  I'll  wait  upstairs." 

I  was  shown  to  a  parlour  on  the  first  floor,  and, 
in  the  room  opening  from  it,  the  table  was  laid  with 
four  covers,  exquisitely  decorated,  a  great  mass  of 
pink  and  white  roses  spraying  out  from  a  central 
vase.  It  was  very  comforting,  and  with  a  satisfied 
sigh,  I  threw  myself  into  an  armchair  by  the  open 
window  of  the  parlour  and  lighted  a  cigarette. 

"  Monsieur  has  but  to  ring,"  the  waiter  said, 
and  left  me  alone. 

I  could  see  the  Senate  clock  from  where  I  sat, 
and  I  watched  the  long  hand  slowly  descending  to 
mark  the  half  hour;  but  before  it  reached  that 
point  the  door  opened  and  I  turned  as  Levignet 
entered. 

He  wore  a  light  grey  overcoat  buttoned  to  the 
chin,  his  face  was  colourless,  and  he  leaned 
heavily  on  his  stick  as  he  walked  from  the  door. 
I  had  risen  on  seeing  him,  but  he  was  the  first  to 
speak,  I  was  so  alarmed  by  his  appearance. 

"  Ah !  you  are  on  time,  Summerville.  Thank 
God  for  that."  He  sank  into  a  chair  and  threw 
his  hat  aside. 

"What's  the  matter,  Levignet?" 

*'  Humph — my  knee,"  he  smiled,  holding  out  a 


Marcel    Levignet  353 

hand  to  me.  "  That  pestilent  Prussian  bullet  has 
waked  to  life.  It  troubled  me  to  get  up  the  stairs 
alone,  but  I  wouldn't  allow  a  servant  to  steal  any- 
thing from  our  privacy." 

"  But  a  glass  of  wine " 

"  No;  I  want  nothing.  Help  me  to  my  place  at 
the  table.  I  have  a  fancy  to  sit  there  as  I  talk. 
I  shall  not  bore  you  long.  I  am  not  going  to  be 
loquacious.  Beautiful  roses." 

He  inhaled  their  fragrance  before  he  sat  down, 
easing  himself,  as  I  thought,  painfully  into  the 
chair. 

'  You  are  suffering  very  greatly,  Levignet." 

"  No,  only  economising  vitality.  Sit  down. 
Minutes  are  precious.  I  do  not  know  how  soon 
we  may  be  interrupted." 

"  Let  me  help  you  off  with  your  coat." 

"  Thank  you,  I'll  wear  it.  My  veins  are  cool- 
ing. I  feel  all  my  years  huddling  suddenly  on  me 
to-night.  Sit  down — no,  this  side;  that  chair  is 
for  'Toinette.  When  she  comes  you  must  tell  her 

for  me "  He  paused,  giving  his  moustache  the 

familiar  twist  that  indicated  a  whimsical  turn  of 
thought.  "  What  an  egotist  she  will  think  me !  I 
am  half  in  the  way  to  believe,  dear  Summerville, 
that  a  man  may  find  himself  very  much  out  in  his 
estimate  of  values  when  he  comes  to  the  Final 
Audit.  Eh?  Your  valuation  and  mine,  for 
example — how  much  is  our  romance  worth  in  the 


354  Marcel    Levignet 

alembic  of  mortality?  Men  wear  tolerably  in  the 
practical  grind;  but  women — is  a  man  worthy 
their  tears  after  all?  " 

He  smiled,  but  his  head  leaned  wearily  against 
the  high  back  of  his  chair. 

"  In  Heaven's  name,  Levignet,  what  is  the  mat- 
ter with  you?  You  are  not  yourself — and  there 
is  something  about  you  that " 

"  Gives  you  the  horrors?  " 

"  That  alarms  me.  Something  has  hap- 
pened  " 

"Yes,  a  casualty;  a  leaf  whipped  from  the 
tree;  but  you  see  me  fighting  shy  of  it  in  spite  of 
the  swift  running  of  the  sands  in  my  tiny  glass. 
We  are  palterers  to  the  last,  are  we  not,  Jack?  " 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  addressed  me  by  that 
familiar  name,  and  the  word  came  like  the  revela- 
tion of  overwhelming  things.  I  felt  as  if  my  heart 
had  been  gripped  in  a  suffocating  pressure.  I 
tried  to  speak,  but  only  leaned  forward  with  my 
hand  on  his  arm,  staring  into  his  pale  face,  wait- 
ing, knowing  what  he  would  say. 

His  eyes  closed  slowly,  but  the  wan  smile  re- 
mained on  his  lips. 

"  You  remember  the  story  I  told  you  of  the 
palatine  Baneban?  " 

"My  God!  Levignet." 

"  Call  me  Baneban." 

An  impulse  to  lock  the  door,  barring  out  the 


Marcel    Levignet  355 

world  brought  me  to  my  feet,  and  I  crossed  the 
supper  room,  but  as  I  turned  the  key  of  one  door, 
a  waiter  entered  at  the  other. 

"  M.  Pontfort  desires  to  speak  to  M.  Levignet," 
he  said  as  I  came  toward  him. 

Pontfort  was  the  Prefect  of  Police,  but  I  should 
have  pushed  the  waiter  from  the  room  and  closed 
the  door,  had  not  Levignet  cried  out : 

"  Ah,  my  old  friend !  Invite  him  in,  Summer- 
ville." 

The  Prefect  was  in  the  hall  and  entered  without 
bidding.  He  nodded  for  the  waiter  to  go,  and 
shut  the  door.  His  strong,  clean  face  showed  signs 
of  deep  emotion.  He  passed  me  without  speak- 
ing and  went  up  to  Levignet,  who  held  out  his 
hand. 

"  Eh !  Pontfort,  do  you  intend  to  get  a  supper 
out  of  me  as  well  as  the  luncheon  I  offered  you  for 
to-morrow?  Well,  there  will  be  room  for  you  at 
the  table,  and  even  you  cannot  exhaust  the  Foyot 
cuisine,  gourmand." 

"  I  do  not  come  to  sup,  Marcel  Levignet.  It 
is  not  your  friend  Pontfort  who  has  come — but 
the  Prefect  of  Police." 

"  Quibbler !  The  fact  that  the  Prefect  of  Police 
has  come  in  person  and  unattended  proves  that  it 
is  my  friend  Pontfort  who  refuses  me  his  hand. 
But  I'm  strangely  sleepy,  Pontfort." 

"  Mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu !      Marcel — old  friend 


356  Marcel    Levignet 

Marcel,  how  was  it  possible  you  could  commit  such 
a  crime?  " 

He  seized  Levignet's  hand  as  he  spoke  and  there 
came  a  gush  of  tears  from  his  eyes. 

"  Crime,  Pontfort?  The  instrument  of  divine 
retribution,  my  friend,  knows  nothing  of  crime.  I 
have  played  an  ordered  part;  but  truth  to  say,  I 
did  not  play  it  altogether  well.  I  have  always  told 
you,  Summerville,  the  Clifton  was  a  marvellous 
woman.  Admirable  to  the  last.  Too  clever  to 
let  me  have  all  the  honours.  No;  honours  are 
easy  between  us." 

He  spoke  slowly,  sleepily,  and  the  last  words 
were  hardly  more  than  audible. 

"You  are  faint,  Levignet;  I'll  ring  for  wine," 
I  said. 

"  No.     Let  no  one  come,  I  need  nothing." 

He  said  this  clearly,  but  the  next  instant  his  eyes 
closed,  and  I  heard  him  murmuring,  "  Greater 
love  hath  no  man." 

He  looked  up.  "  Ah !  It  is  you,  Pontfort. 
Take  my  hand.  And  you,  Summerville.  There 
was  to  have  been  a  fete.  We  were  to  have 
been  merry.  Well,  let  us  not  be  sad.  The  roses 
are  here.  'Toinette  will  come.  Roses  and  'Toin- 
ette.  What  better  for  an  evening's  end — or  a 
life's?  For  me — what  could  I  give  to  love  but 
roses  and  life!  Roses  and  life.  Roses  and  life. 
A  carriage  has  stopped  at  the  door.  De  Noel  is 


Marcel    Levignet  357 

handing  out  'Toinette.  'Toinette  in  white.  She 
is  dressed  for  my  fete.  I  must  go  to  welcome 
her." 

He  had  closed  his  eyes  when  he  took  our  hands 
and  he  talked  dreamily  and  at  last  seemed  to  fall 
into  a  slumber,  the  scarce  breathing  slumber  of  a 
child.  It  was  so  natural  and  easy,  and  his  smile 
was  so  serene,  and  there  had  been  so  little  to  arouse 
a  doubt  that  his  drowsiness  was  due  to  anything 
other  than  fatigue,  that  I  was  startled  when  Pont- 
f ort  exclaimed : 

"  His  hand  is  like  ice.  He  has  fainted.  Get 
some  water." 

He  bent  forward  and  unloosed  the  coat  Levignet 
had  kept  buttoned  to  the  chin,  but  as  he  flung  it 
open  he  uttered  a  great  cry  and  staggered  back  as 
if  he  had  received  a  blow.  Turning  to  look,  I 
heard  'Toinette's  voice  as  the  door  of  the  further 
room  was  opened  for  her.  But  for  that,  I  too, 
would  have  cried  out  in  the  agony  of  that  terrible 
surprise  and  the  shock  of  knowing  that  he  had 
sat  there  through  so  many  wasting  minutes,  with 
never  a  word  or  plaint  or  warning  on  his  smiling 
lips.  Trembling,  I  caught  together  the  folds  of 
his  coat,  and  hurriedly  buttoned  them  over  his 
breast — the  brave,  generous  breast  that  was  alto- 
gether done  with  troubling. 

'Toinette  in  the  room  beyond,  jested,  laughing, 
with  de  Noel. 


358  Marcel   Levignet 

''  Truly,  mon  ami,  we  have  come  in  advance  of 
our  host.  May  we  not  arrange  some  trick  to 
punish  this  truant  Levignet?  " 

Pontfort  went  in  to  them  and  closed  the  door, 
leaving  me  alone  with  my  friend. 


ONE  who  will  may  read  in  the  journals  of 
the  day  what  I  choose  to  omit  from  this 
memoir  of  a  man  I  loved.  It  is  not  in 
the  deeds  of  men,  but  in  the  motive  to  conduct,  that 
the  Angel  of  Judgment  will  search  for  the  Jewel 
of  great  price.  To  pass  through  the  portal  shriven 
or  unshrifted,  to  go  forth  with  the  oil  of  pardon 
on  the  brow,  or  only  with  the  light  of  a  serene 
soul  in  the  tranquil  smile — what  does  it  matter,  if 
the  man  has  lived  in  unselfishness?  If  at  the  last 
I  may  wear  such  a  smile  as  made  the  still  face  of 
Marcel  Levignet  beautiful  in  the  sunlight  of  the 
perfect  morning,  men  may  speak  of  me  as  they  will 
— it  will  be  well  with  me. 

And  yet  Levignet  missed  the  knowledge  of  his 
greatest  service.  It  was  the  third  day  of  the 
Charity  Bazaar.  Prostrated  by  the  grief  and 
nervous  shock  'Toinette  was  kept  from  her  booth 
on  that  awful  day.  It  was  as  if  the  spirit  of 
Levignet  had  saved  her  from  flame,  as  years  before 
he  had  rescued  her  from  the  water.  In  death  as 
in  life,  he  was  her  benefactor. 

The  calamity  of  the  afternoon  made  Paris  for- 
get the  sensation  of  the  morning.  But  three  of 

359 


360  Marcel    Levignet 

us,  de  Noel,  Pontfort  and  I,  followed  Levignet 
to  Pere  Lachaise. 

The  morning  after,  my  trunks  ready  for  my 
quitting  Paris,  I  went  for  a  lone  farewell  visit  to 
my  friend's  grave.  It  was  in  the  remote  corner 
of  the  cemetery  where  four  generations  of 
Levignets  were  at  peace.  As  I  entered  the  en- 
closure I  saw  a  woman  lying  face  down  across 
the  new  mound.  She  did  not  answer  when  I  spoke 
to  her.  I  touched  her  on  the  shoulder.  I  raised 
her  head  to  look  into  her  face. 

It  was  old  Suzel.  There  was  a  new  image  of 
St.  Joseph  in  her  hand.  Her  clothes  were  drenched 
and  earth-splashed. 

It  had  rained  through  the  night. 


THE     END 


A     000  040  675     1 


